


Hotel Guests

by redundant_angel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, American Crowley, British Aziraphale, Chef Aziraphale, Cigarettes, Drunken Kissing, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Food, Good AUmens AU Festival, Hotels, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, One Night Stands, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Rain, Romance, Romantic Angst, Sexual Tension, She/Her Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Slow Burn, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, There Was Only One Hotel, Travel, Vintner Crowley, Wall Slam, Wine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24713533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redundant_angel/pseuds/redundant_angel
Summary: The last thing Aziraphale expected when he arrived in Vancouver for a food and wine festival was to meet a handsome stranger.  Especially not a handsome stranger who happens to be staying at the same hotel.  Then again, he did promise himself that he would make the most of this weekend...------Aziraphale is a budding chef from London and Crowley owns a small winery in California. Will they be able to to make it work across the divide or will their love be just a one-night stand?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 362
Kudos: 340
Collections: Good AUmens AU Fest, Good Omens Human AUs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is my entry for the Good AUmens event, as well as my first ever Good Omens human AU! 
> 
> A big thank you to my amazing beta TawnyOwl95! You can read her work for Good AUmens Fest [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24537991/chapters/59248396).

  
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••  
  


Aziraphale hated flying. Or, more accurately, he hated landing. As the Boeing 747 neared the runway and buildings and roadways whizzed furiously by, Aziraphale gripped his arm rest tightly and instructed himself to remember to breathe. He had only been on an airplane a handful of times before and had never grown accustomed to the steady drop in pressure or to the sensation that he was going to fly out of his seat at any given moment. The planes’ wheels hit the ground with a thud and Aziraphale slammed his eyes shut, clinging to the armrests for dear life.He was certain that the plane was about to shake to pieces but soon enough their speed began to ease, along with his pulse. He let out a relieved sigh, incredibly grateful to be back on solid ground once again. 

The flight from London to Vancouver had been an exhausting ten-hour ordeal. Aziraphale had sat through two less than riveting film choices and made it through a fair portion of the Agatha Christie novel that he’d brought with him. He’d even attempted to get some sleep towards the end of the flight, only to be woken up an hour later when the flight attendants began meal service. Suffice it to say, he was tired, jet-lagged, and he couldn’t wait to get to his hotel room downtown. 

He would be staying at a rather fancy waterfront hotel, the Pan Pacific, and he was certain it was going to be lovely. It was all part of the prize package he’d won at culinary school: an all expenses-paid trip to the West Coast Food and Wine Festival in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. As a budding chef, Aziraphale figured that the festival would be a fantastic opportunity to meet some world-class chefs, sample a variety of wines and cuisines from around the world, and expand upon his own culinary knowledge. His good friend, Tracy, had been absolutely over the moon for him. She promised Aziraphale that he would enjoy himself, learn a thing or two and meet other people in the industry. She had also hinted that he should consider this trip a holiday and treat it as a well-deserved opportunity to relax and have a little fun (and she hadn’t been very subtle about it). 

Aziraphale had brushed the comment off, of course, but part of him that knew she right. He had been working so hard for so long, with barely a break between school and starting his new job at the high-end restaurant, the Quince and Quill. ‘Enjoying himself’ hadn’t exactly been at the top of his priority list. Maybe this holiday, however short, was exactly what he needed to relax and unwind.

The airplane rolled up to the terminal and the seat belt signs finally turned off. Aziraphale grabbed his satchel, trench coat, and umbrella from the overhead compartment and shuffled off the plane in a long line with the rest of the passengers. Eventually he found himself in the international terminal, waiting for his rather large suitcase to come around on the conveyor belt. Aziraphale hadn’t packed light. He didn’t travel often and the anxiety of not having something with him if he needed it had driven him to pack more than he likely needed for such a short trip. The thought of the airline having lost his bag briefly crossed his mind and he tried not to panic. It took a while, but eventually he saw his big tartan suitcase coming around the track out of the corner of his eye. He breathed a lengthy sigh of relief and wandered over to claim it. He bundled up all his belongings and headed out the main doors towards the pickup area. 

It was a dull and gray afternoon and the rain was coming down hard. The hotel he was to stay at was all the way downtown, and Aziraphale was in no mood for getting lost on a transit system that he wasn’t familiar with. Instead, he queued up under a covered area to wait for a taxi.

“You dropped something.”

Aziraphale turned to see an attractive stranger standing behind him, a tartan-striped umbrella clasped in the man’s outstretched hand.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Aziraphale mumbled, caught rather off guard by the striking figure of the man before him. He was a few inches taller than Aziraphale, all style and sharp angles with unruly auburn hair, fitted black jeans and a leather coat that was a great deal edgier than anything he himself would wear. He flashed a quirky grin at Aziraphale from behind his aviator-style sunglasses. 

“You’re going to need an umbrella on a day like today.” 

“You’re quite right,” Aziraphale agreed, trying not to blush. He took the umbrella and stuffed it into his bag. “Thank you.” 

“It was sixty-nine degrees and sunny when I woke up this morning in California.”

“Is that where you’ve flown in from?” Aziraphale wondered briefly if the man might be an actual Hollywood movie star. He certainly could have played the part.

“Yup. I live in Napa Valley… own a small vineyard down there.”

“Really? What’s the name, perhaps I’ve heard of it?”

“Oh, no, you wouldn’t have,” the man shrugged. “It’s just a small operation.”

Aziraphale smiled at him kindly and it seemed to produce the desired effect.

“Original Sin Vineyards,” the man offered.

“Oh? That does sound tempting.”

The other man’s grin widened. “A small selection of my labels will be featured at the food and wine festival that’s on this weekend.”

Aziraphale felt his heart skip a beat. “Well! I might see you there.”

“You’re kidding. Are you in the industry?”

“Just starting out, actually,” Aziraphale replied, and, because he knew that he should likely be networking any chance he got, he added, “My name is Aziraphale Fell. It’s nice to meet you…?” 

“Crowley,” the man replied, reaching across to shake his hand. Aziraphale shifted the bulk of what he was carrying so that he could accept it. “Pleasure, _Aziraphale._ ”

Aziraphale enjoyed the sultry smooth way Crowley pronounced each syllable of his name, making it sound sexier than it had any right being. 

“I was named after my grandfather,” Aziraphale blurted out, even though Crowley hadn't asked. He’d been hounded so many times about origin of his given name that the explanation was well-rehearsed. “I’ve thought about shortening it or just going by my initials, A. Z., but my name means a great deal to me, so I’ve left it as is.” 

“It’s nice,” said Crowley, cocking his head to one side as he appraised Aziraphale. “It suits you.”

“Oh, thank you.” Now Aziraphale _was_ blushing. Without realizing it, he had found himself at the front of the queue. The next taxi pulled up and the driver jumped out to help him load his luggage into the back. “Well, this is me, it seems," Aziraphale said. "Perhaps we’ll run into one another at one of the events this weekend? I’ll keep an eye out for your label.”

“Perhaps we will,” Crowley replied, flashing him another grin.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but grin back. He got into the cab, sparing one last glance at the redhead out the back window as they drove off. He’d been in Canada for all of twenty minutes and he’d already met a handsome stranger who was not only destined for the same event as he, but who also seemed to find Aziraphale charming. He was sure Tracy would have _plenty_ to say about that. 

Aziraphale chastised himself for being so silly. The man wasn't being flirtatious, he was merely being friendly and the entire conversation had been nothing but small talk. Or perhaps Crowley had indeed found Aziraphale interesting but it had been so long since Aziraphale was free to do what he wanted that his anxiety was playing tricks on him and telling him otherwise. In any case, if he _did_ happen to run into Crowley over the weekend, it decidedly wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen.

Aziraphale’s hotel room was of average size with a queen-sized bed, but the view from the window was something else entirely. Below him was a glistening body of water and beyond the skyscrapers and city streets stood an expanse of majestic mountains, partially obstructed by rain clouds. The landscape was beautiful. Aziraphale hoped that the weather might clear up before he had to leave so that he could see those mountains in their full splendor. The plush looking pillows on the bed were calling to him but he knew better than to fall asleep too early lest he never adjust to the time difference. 

Suddenly, Aziraphale realized how hungry he was. He’d seen a rather fancy and expensive restaurant in the lobby on his way in, but seeing as he was only going to be in town for a short time, there had to be something close by that was a little more rustic. Besides, that high-end restaurant only reminded Aziraphale of work. While his boss and restaurant owner, Gabriel, was obsessed with small portions, health food and vegan dishes, Aziraphale would indulge in whatever suited his fancy… which was, well, almost anything. If it was small, and quaint, and off the beaten path even better. He grabbed his raincoat and umbrella and took to the streets of Vancouver.

He strolled a few blocks east before coming across a small sushi restaurant. Aziraphale stopped and felt a little thrill in his belly. Vancouver was world-renowned for its sushi and there was quite the little crowd inside, a good sign that the restaurant was bound to be excellent. 

Once he’d acquired a table, Aziraphale ordered several items off the menu, wanting to sample as many delicacies as he could. As he sipped his oolong tea he began to feel at ease among the hustle and bustle of the Vancouver nightlife. He was on his own in a big city and an ocean away from home. He was free, and no one could find him. No one could call him and demand that he came into work on his day off, or that he needed to stay late at the end of a ten-hour shift. His thoughts turned sour as he pictured Gabriel’s arrogant face. The man had looked like he was going to pop a vein at the request for time off, and Aziraphale was certain that the man was going to give him utter hell when he returned to London. 

The Quince and Quill, Gabriel’s high-end vegan restaurant, had been up and running for nearly six months and during that time Aziraphale hadn’t taken or asked for any time off at all. It wasn’t unusual for him to work at the restaurant six days a week. This was not a job Aziraphale could afford to lose. As a brand new chef, he had only been in the industry for less than a year and he needed the work experience as well as the money. Ideally, Aziraphale hoped to open his own restaurant one day and do things on his own terms, but until then he needed to make do with the job he had. 

Aziraphale popped another delicious sushi roll into his mouth and closed his eyes, savoring the flavour on his tongue and feeling any last bit of lingering stress slip away. With only three days to spend in this city it was going to be a whirlwind of a trip, and Aziraphale vowed that he was going to do everything he could to enjoy himself this weekend. _If only the weather would cooperate_ , he thought bitterly, watching plump raindrops streaking across the windowpane beside his table.

As he made his way back towards the Pan Pacific, Aziraphale spotted a familiar figure a short distance from the hotel entrance. It was Crowley. He was standing under a black umbrella, smoking a cigarette. Aziraphale was stunned. What were the chances that Crowley might be staying at the same hotel as he was? Not so far-fetched, he supposed after a moment. They were only a short walk away from the venue where the bulk of festival was to be held. 

He stood across the street in hesitation, his nerves getting the best of him. He could easily slip through the front doors without being seen, if he were so inclined, but remembering his promise to himself, Aziraphale took a deep breath and crossed the street.

"Hello again, Crowley," Aziraphale said cheerfully as he approached, hoping that the man hadn’t forgotten him entirely.

Crowley’s expression shifted from stunned surprise to delight when he realized just who was standing next to him. “Aziraphale!” he exclaimed, a huge grin on his face. “Twice in one day… it must be fate!” 

Aziraphale hadn’t expected Crowley to be so happy to see him, let alone remember his name, and he felt a warm tingly sensation spreading throughout his body.

“Are you staying here at the Pan Pacific?” Crowley asked.

“I am.”

“Well, I’m an idiot.”

Aziraphale laughed. “Why do you say that?”

Crowley shrugged and took another drag from his cigarette. “Had I known that we were staying at the same hotel I’d have offered to share a cab from the airport.” As he spoke, wisps of silver smoke curled upwards from his lips and Aziraphale found himself staring longingly at the sharp curve of Crowley's mouth. 

“Oh, that’s alright. I wouldn’t have been great company, in any case.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Crowley was no longer wearing his sunglasses and Aziraphale found himself enamored by the depth of Crowley’s amber-tinged eyes. The man was infuriatingly attractive. “You’re soaked!” The redhead said suddenly. He stomped out his cigarette and shifted so he that he could cover Aziraphale with his umbrella.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale replied, trying desperately to hide how enamored he was already. This newfound proximity was only adding fuel to the fire. Oh, how good Crowley smelled. Aziraphale was about to inquire after the cologne he was wearing when Crowley asked, “what happened to your umbrella?”

“Oh.” Aziraphale bit his lip, slightly embarrassed. “I gave it away.”

Those amber eyes widened in astonishment. “You _what_?”

Aziraphale sighed, feeling rather foolish. “On my way back to the hotel I came across a woman and her young son. They were completely drenched so I offered them my umbrella.” 

Crowley was staring at him with an impossibly smitten expression, and Aziraphale could feel his cheeks burning. 

“You’re an angel,” Crowley teased, his grin growing wider.

“Don’t be silly. It just seemed like the right thing to do, and I can always buy myself another one.”

“Very true. Still an angel, though.” 

Aziraphale’s heart was fluttering madly in his chest as he and Crowley walked side by side back to the hotel. He silently urged it to shut up. There was something about this man that was driving Aziraphale crazy. No, not something. _Everything_. It was almost as though a higher power had dropped Crowley in his path just to watch what might happen. They stepped into the elevator together and the doors slid shut, separating the two of them from the outside world.

“Which floor are you on?” Crowley asked him.

“I’m sorry?” Aziraphale blushed once he realized why Crowley had posed the question. “Oh. Seventh, please.”

He watched Crowley push the button for the seventh floor, followed by another, this one for the very top floor of the hotel. Aziraphale’s eyes widened with disbelief. Crowley was staying in a penthouse suite in one of the most expensive hotels in in the city. Thoughts swirled rampantly in Aziraphale’s mind, but he decided to bite his tongue. It was none of his business, after all, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. They rode the rest of the way up in silence and when the doors slid open on the seventh floor and Aziraphale stepped out. 

Crowley flashed him another heart-stopping grin and Aziraphale was beginning to wonder if he was losing his mind or if Crowley was just as attracted to him as he was to Crowley.

“See you tomorrow, Angel.” 

“See you tomorrow,” he promised, offering Crowley his own bashful smile in return. The elevator doors slid shut leaving Aziraphale alone with his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was overwhelmed by the positive response I got on the first chapter, so thank you all so much! I hope I didn't keep everyone waiting too long!
> 
> Thank you again to my wonderful beta [TawnyOwl95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TawnyOwl95/pseuds/TawnyOwl95).

Crowley awoke in darkness to the sound of the alarm on his cell phone. Thick drapes were pulled taut across the suite’s floor to ceiling windows, barring any light from infiltrating the room and for a moment he’d forgotten where he was. With a disoriented groan, he threw one arm across the king-sized bed to reach for his phone. It was eight in the morning. He craved more sleep. He had spent most of his night tossing and turning, and now he had no choice but to drag himself out of bed. The festival was kicking off in just two hours and aside from setting up his station, Crowley needed time to mentally prepare himself for what was sure to be a long day ahead. 

He rolled out of bed and drew back the thick curtains. Bright morning light flooded through the room and Crowley winced, staring wistfully at the city below him. The rain still hadn’t let up, nevertheless the view of the cloud covered mountains from the top floor was breathtaking. The penthouse suite he was staying in, one of the Pan Pacific’s best, rivaled the size of his own bungalow at home. Aside from the absurdly large bed there was an entire lounge leading off to one side of his bedroom which was furnished with sprawling sofas, plush pillows and cozy throws, along with a gas fireplace. There was also a full kitchen, a bar, a massive bathroom and a luxurious jacuzzi tub overlooking the harbour. 

He’d never expected to stay in such swanky accommodations. Bee, the senior sales manager for Warlock Wineries, had insisted that she would take care of everything; all Crowley had to do was show up. Still, this room seemed excessive and the thought owing Bee something that he couldn’t pay back made Crowley’s skin crawl. While he could have turned down her invitation, his hands were essentially tied. Warlock Wineries was a massive conglomerate that owned hundreds of vineyards all over the North America. In fact, they’d snapped up nearly all the smaller, privately-owned wineries in the area where Crowley lived, and rebranded them all to suit their own needs. Now, the company was aiming for his winery, Original Sin. At first, Crowley had refused to sell: the vineyard had been in his family for generations. But Warlock Wineries, with their flashy labels and endless resources, could easily put him out of business in less than a year if they were so inclined. And they were inclined. At least Bee saw an opportunity to work with him rather than leave him behind. Crowley needed to take a few risks to keep his business afloat, and right now, that might mean making a deal with the devil. 

With a sigh of resignation, Crowley sauntered into the bathroom to take a shower. As steaming hot water rushed over his skin and urged his mind into wakefulness, his thoughts turned to the enigmatic British man that he had run into not once, but twice the day before. Aziraphale. He certainly was unforgettable, and not only because of his unusual name. Aside from the man’s charming accent and his prim sweater vest and plaid bow tie, Aziraphale had one of the most luminous smiles that Crowley had ever seen. Crowley was not someone who made friends easily and he certainly wasn’t the type to be instantly smitten with a stranger, but with Aziraphale the attraction was immediate and undeniable. Perhaps his anxious mind was playing tricks on him, but in any case, Crowley couldn’t wait to see him again. 

“Come on,” he said out loud to his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You’re here for business, that’s it.”

He wrapped a towel around his waist and strode over to the front closet to pull out his freshly pressed black suit. He lay the suit down on the bed and cringed. The last time he’d worn it had been for his father’s funeral, and unfortunately, it was the only suit he owned. Crowley’s go-to style was dark jeans, a t-shirt, and if the weather required it, his leather jacket. He practically lived in jeans. On any given day, he could most often be found working in the vineyard at home and he so rarely dealt with the public that it had never made sense to wear a suit, but Bee had insisted that he wear one. 

Crowley dressed quickly then picked up the one sad-looking dark red tie that he’d packed for the trip and glared at it. He hated ties. He wasn’t even entirely sure he knew how to tie the damned thing, but he eventually fenagled it into place. He supposed he looked presentable now. After styling his hair into it’s usual ‘just rolled out of bed’ tousled look, he grabbed his wallet, phone, and cigarettes, and headed down to the lobby for breakfast.

He didn’t have time for a sit-down meal, so he raced over to the buffet line and grabbed a muffin, a banana, and some black coffee in a to-go cup. As he was leaving the restaurant, he saw Aziraphale standing in the lobby looking handsome as ever in an argyle sweater and white dress shirt. The man’s reading glasses were seated low on his nose as he flipped through a festival guide. Crowley smirked at his good fortune and headed over to say hello, a clever pick-up line right on the tip of his tongue. Aziraphale happened to look up at just that moment, but before Crowley could open his mouth a man carrying a large backpack bumped into his arm and Crowley's coffee spilled across the front of his shirt.

“Fuck,” Crowley hissed.

“Oh, dear me.” Aziraphale smiled kindly and drew a microfiber cloth from his pocket. Crowley’s hands were full so Aziraphale took it upon himself to dab at Crowley’s tie with the cloth. “This might help a bit, Crowley, but I’m afraid you’re going to need another tie.”

“I don’t have another tie.”

“Oh, well, perhaps I have something upstairs you can borrow. Come with me.”

Crowley couldn’t exactly say no, so he followed Aziraphale into the elevator.

“You look rather dashing this morning, Crowley,” said Aziraphale.

“Thanks, so do you,” Crowley replied automatically. “I mean, er, well, you do.”

Aziraphale laughed. “Well, thank you, but these are just my everyday clothes. That suit fits you very nicely. I’m assuming you’ll be hard at work today selling your wine?”

“Yeah. I’ll be down in the showcase room for most of the day.”

“How exciting!”

Aziraphale led Crowley down the hall and swiped his key card to enter his suite. The room was a fair bit smaller than Crowley's suite, but it too faced north and boasted an excellent view of the harbour and the north shore mountains. Aziraphale walked over to his suitcase and began sifting through the contents. 

“You’re in luck.” Aziraphale turned and held up a blue and green tie and a light pink tie for Crowley's approval. Both were tartan.

Crowley stared. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“Aside, from the bow tie I’m wearing, of course, but you are welcome to it as well. Is something wrong?”

“They’re both… tartan.”

“Tartan is stylish, thank you very much,” Aziraphale chided. 

“I can’t wear this.”

“Why not?”

“It will look ridiculous.”

“Do I look ridiculous?”

“Of course not,” Crowley sighed. “You look great. Tartan is your style, it suits you. I can’t pull that off.”

Aziraphale shrugged. “Well, I don’t see that you have many options at the moment, dear.”

Crowley bit his lip and reached for the dark navy blue and green tie. “This will be fine,” he mumbled, pulling his stained tie loose from his collar.

“May I?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley nodded. With a smile, Aziraphale reached up and adjusted the tie around Crowley’s neck, taking his time cinching it into a perfect knot. “Are you certain you don’t want to try a bow tie? I’m sure it would look dashing on you.”

“I’m sure,” Crowley whispered, feeling a bit light-headed over how close Aziraphale was to him right now.

“I’m only kidding.” Aziraphale pulled away and took a moment to admire Crowley in his suit and tartan tie. “Lovely.”

Crowley could feel himself blushing and turned quickly for the door before anything worse could happen. “Do you think you might stop by the showcase room today?” he asked Aziraphale before he left. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Crowley.”

  
  


•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

  
  


A substantial portion of the West Coast Food and Wine festival was being held up the street at a convention center. There were other, smaller events being held in nearby locations, but the tasting room at Canada Place was to be the main attraction. Crowley stepped through the main doors and traded in his ticket for a wristband. 

The moment he entered the main tasting room, he was completely floored. He had never sold any of his products at an event bigger than a local farm market, and this venue was huge. There were over fifty themed wine stations, each one showcasing a variety of wines, and many of which were being paired with intriguing dishes provided by a variety of restaurants, caterers, and food companies. He wandered through the maze of vendors, many of which were just adding the final details to their displays, hoping that he would get the chance to sample some of them later. The level of marketing for some of the labels was impressive. His own label, Original Sin, was one of the smaller, lesser known wines in the room but that was even more reason for him to make a good impression. Thankfully, the stations were numbered, and he followed along until he reached number fifty-two. 

Crowley froze. A large banner hanging above the booth read ‘Warlock Wineries Promotes’ and beneath that in smaller letters, read the words: “Original Sin Vineyards.” He almost didn’t recognize his own product. Each wine bottle was adorned with Original Sin’s characteristic black and red lettering on a white background, except now it also featured the image of a snake coiling suggestively around a glistening red apple. This was the first time he’d seen any of his own merchandise since Bee’s marketing team had got hold of it. Even though he’d had misgivings about handing over partial control of Original Sin to Bee, Crowley had to admit the new packaging looked amazing. 

“Well, what do you think?”

Crowley turned to see Bee standing behind him, a hand on her hip and one meticulously manicured eyebrow raised in expectation. She wore a form-fitting black cocktail dress; her short jet-black hair was sleekly styled, and her lips were adorned with a ruby red shade of lipstick that precisely matched the shiny red apple on the label.

“It’s…” Crowley managed, feeling slightly overwhelmed by how well Bee had done. “I… I love it.”

“I knew you would,” Bee said, grinning up at him salaciously. “My design team always does a killer job.”

“It definitely stands out, that’s for sure. Bound to catch a few eyes.”

“Yep,” Bee agreed excitedly. "You look great, by the way. Nice tie."

Crowley glanced down at his tartan tie with chagrin. "Thanks."

Bee pulled aside a young man who was unloading some boxes of wine. “This is my assistant, Eric. He’s going to be helping us run the station this weekend.”

“Nice to meet you,” Eric said brightly. “We’re going to be promoting the Cabernet Sauvignon, Malbec, Sauvignon Blanc and Riesling, and our partner Jamieson’s Westside Café will be providing food pairings to go with each one.”

“Thank you, Eric,” Crowley said, shaking the younger man’s hand.

“Trust me, Anthony," Bee said, dragging her long nails playfully along Crowley’s back as she stepped behind the booth. "You’re going to be a big hit.” 

  
  


•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

  
  


All morning and well into the afternoon, Crowley worked tirelessly to promote his Original Sin label. He had already sold dozens of bottles and given out more business cards than he could count. He did have to hand it to Bee, she was a voracious saleswoman. They were selling the wine at twice the price Crowley would normally charge and people were buying it, no questions asked. Clearly, Bee knew what she was doing. Still, he didn’t appreciate the way Bee was promoting the business as though it exclusively belonged to Warlock Vineyards. Even if half of the proceeds of this weekend’s sales were going to them, Original Sin was still _his_ company. At least until he said otherwise.

“We meet again.”

Crowley glanced up to see a familiar face smiling at him from across the table.

“Aziraphale! You made it.”

“Of course, dear. Did you really think I’d miss the opportunity to taste some of your wine? How are things going?”

“Surprisingly well, actually,” Crowley replied, leaning closer so that his voice would carry over the noise. He offered Aziraphale a tasting glass. “Can I tempt you into trying the Cabernet Sauvignon? It’s a best-seller. We’ve paired it with mini sliders with blue cheese.”

“Temptation accomplished,” said Aziraphale, and he wiggled his eyebrows. 

Crowley poured a generous amount of wine into the glass and watched as Aziraphale expertly swirled the red liquid around a few times before tasting it. “How is it?”

“Absolutely splendid. It has a complex flavour. I can discern hints of cherry, blackberry, plum and vanilla. Full mouth, rounded tannins, balanced acidity..."

Crowley was stunned. “Didn’t you say you were new to the industry?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, but I’ve been a wine drinker much longer than that, dear boy. In any case, this is simply divine. Honestly, it’s by far the most unique Cabernet I’ve tasted so far today.”

“Yeah?” Crowley poured a little more wine into his glass. “Which room are you in? I’ll have a bottle sent up.”

Aziraphale was about to respond when Bee shoved her way into Crowley’s personal space, eyeing Aziraphale with displeasure. “Who’s your friend and why are we giving away our wine for free?”

Crowley tore his eyes away from Aziraphale and glared at Bee. “Bee, this is Aziraphale, Aziraphale, this is Bee. She’s-”

“I’m Anthony’s partner,” Bee said as she shoved her hand into Aziraphale’s own and gave it a tight squeeze. 

“Anthony?” Aziraphale echoed, eyebrows raised.

Crowley could feel his cheeks begin to burn. “Anthony’s my first name," he admitted. "But I usually go by my last name.”

“Well, I think we know one another well enough by now to be on a first name basis, wouldn’t you agree?” Bee squeezed Crowley’s arm possessively and flashed Aziraphale a pointed glare. “Now, will you be buying anything today, Aziraphale, or do you always flirt with salesmen for handouts?”

To Crowley’s surprise, Aziraphale smiled politely at Bee and pulled out his wallet. “I’ll take two bottles of the Cab Sav.” 

As Bee turned to process his order, Crowley shot Aziraphale an apologetic look. “I don’t want you to feel pressured to buy those, Aziraphale.”

“Not at all, Crowley. I’m happy to buy your wine. In fact, I would buy more if I thought I could fit it into my luggage.” He leaned closer to Crowley and said quietly, “Might you have a break coming up soon? There’s a station just two rows over serving baked oysters on the half-shell, and they are to die for.”

Crowley raised a curious eyebrow. “I’ve never eaten an oyster.”

“Oh. Well, you must let me tempt you to-“

“A break sounds like an excellent idea,” Bee interrupted, apparently having overheard their conversation. She shoved a plastic bag containing the wine across the table towards Aziraphale and turned her attention back Crowley. “Why don’t you and I head back up to my suite for a bit and unwind? I'll have room service sent up, maybe a bottle of champagne to celebrate our success! Eric can watch the table while we’re gone.”

Crowley saw uncertainty dance across Aziraphale’s face at Bee’s request and his heart began to pound in his eardrums. “Thanks, but I’d like to stay down here, if it's all the same to you.”

“Your loss, Anthony,” Bee said with a shrug. She donned her coat and stepped out from behind the table, squaring Aziraphale with a look of contempt. “I wouldn’t bother if were you,” she said haughtily. “Trust me, professor. You're not his type.”

Aziraphale’s face turned red with embarrassment.

Crowley felt his stomach flip. “I need some air,” he announced, feeling the need to escape. He needed to be anywhere but here. 

“Crowley, wait!”

Crowley could hear Aziraphale calling after him as he headed for the doors leading out onto the convention center's outdoor patio, but he didn’t stop. By the time Aziraphale did catch up to him he was standing outside in the drizzling rain, struggling to light a cigarette that was pressed between his lips.

Concern was written all over Aziraphale’s face. “Crowley? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Crowley snapped, sounding harsher than he meant to. He hadn’t expected Aziraphale to follow him outside in the rain, no less, but he was grateful that he had. It only added to Crowley’s growing mental list of why the man must be a literal angel. His hands trembled as he fiddled with the lighter.

“Please,” Aziraphale offered, stepping closer, his hand outstretched. “Allow me.” 

Crowley raised an inquisitive eyebrow but Aziraphale seemed determined, so he silently handed the lighter over. The other man huddled closer, cupping his palm over the end of Crowley’s cigarette and Crowley leaned forward, his heart doing a little somersault in his chest at the warmth of Aziraphale’s breath brushing against his cheek. Aziraphale sparked a flame on the first try, lighting the cigarette with skill, and Crowley took a long drag, feeling the familiar warmth to sink into his body, calming his nerves. He leaned away so that he wouldn’t blow smoke in Aziraphale’s direction. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Aziraphale replied, handing Crowley back the lighter. “I used to smoke.”

“Really?” Crowley pictured how refined Aziraphale would look holding a cigarette and the thought was more alluring than he’d like to admit.

“Yes. It was a long time ago. Took a great deal of willpower to quit, but eventually I did. Unfortunately, once I got into the restaurant industry, I nearly started up again. Everyone smokes, you see. I still find myself fighting the urge every day.”

Crowley looked at the cigarette in his hand and laughed despite himself. “I never really smoked before I met Bee. She’s… a lot. Listen, Aziraphale, I’m sorry about what she said back there. That was horribly rude of her.”

“Believe me, Crowley, it’s quite all right. No harm done. Obviously, she didn’t realize that you and I had only just met,” Aziraphale chuckled. “We’re not even friends. We barely know each other.”

“I’d like to know you,” Crowley blurted out. “Better, I mean.”

Here he was, a trembling mess, getting emotional in front of a perfect stranger. He wouldn’t have blamed Aziraphale for thinking he was insane. But instead, the other man’s face lit up with that characteristic luminescent smile. 

“Well,” he said, “it's good thing neither of us are leaving until Monday.”

Crowley suddenly felt infinitely better than he had a moment ago and it had nothing to do with the cigarette. “You don’t need to stand out here in the rain with me, Aziraphale.”

“Very well. I’ll wait for you inside. You know, Crowley, you would likely have a better time tasting those oysters if you didn’t smoke.” He winked and walked back indoors.

Crowley exhaled a plume of smoke and glanced bitterly at the half-finished cigarette between his fingers. It didn’t take him long to decide that he would rather be eating oysters with Aziraphale than standing alone in the rain with a cigarette that he didn’t need. He let it fall to the ground and stomped out the flame beneath his boot.

“Goddamned angel,” he muttered, the hint of grin on his lips as he followed Aziraphale back inside. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long delay between chapter 2 and 3. A perfect storm of things happened in my life this month, including debilitating back pain that made it impossible for me to get this last chapter out in a timely manner. I hope I didn't lose anybody, but I am only human and can only do what I can do. 
> 
> I'm also posting a fic for the Good Omens Mini Bang at the end of July which will take some of my time as well, but once that's finished, I should be able to concentrate on writing this bad boy. :) 
> 
> And just so everyone is in the loop, although I am posting chapters as I write them, I do have a full story outline for this fic and a plan for these two love birds!

Much later that evening, Aziraphale returned to his hotel room to relax. He swiped his key card over the sensor on the door and slipped inside. The first thing he noticed upon entering the room was a sealed envelope on the nightstand next to his neatly turned down bedspread. He hurried over and snatched it up off the table. The envelope had the hotel’s insignia in one corner and his name in handwriting on the front. He couldn’t fathom who the note might be from but there was only one way to find out. He ripped open the envelope and saw that it was a telegram. 

Aziraphale laughed at the obsolescent nature of receiving a telegram at a hotel in the twenty-first century but he supposed it was his own for refusing to bring a mobile phone or any other technological device along on this trip. His amusement vanished in an instant when he saw what was written:  
  


** _Marked: Urgent  
  
_ _Dear Mr. Fell,_ **

**_A Mr. Gabriel Archangelo in London has requested that you contact him as soon as possible. He said it was a matter of urgent importance._ _You may use the telephone in your room to make a long distance call with your credit card. If you require any assistance please contact the front desk._ **

**_Thank you._ **

  
Aziraphale’s heart sank. Something must be terribly wrong for Gabriel to have gone through the effort to track him down. He’d left the hotel’s contact information with Tracy in the event of an emergency. He glanced at his watch. It would be just after four in the morning now in London. Figuring it best not to wait, Aziraphale pulled out his credit card and dialed Gabriel’s number. The phone rang three times before a very sleepy Gabriel picked up.

 _“Hello?_ ”

“Gabriel? It’s Aziraphale. You needed to speak with me right away?”

 _“I can tell it’s you Aziraphale,”_ Gabriel grunted. _“Why are you phoning me this early? You woke me up.”_

“I’m terribly sorry, but I got your message, and-”

 _“Call me back after eight.”_

There was a click and the line went dead.

Aziraphale stared at the telephone receiver in his hand for a moment in disbelief, then hung up, slumping down onto the bed. He crumpled the telegram into a ball. The nerve of that man, calling him while he was on vacation and then demanding he rearrange his schedule to phone him again! 

Feeling heated, Aziraphale kicked off his shoes, grabbed the remote control and flung himself onto the bed, flipping absently through channels on television without paying much attention to what he was watching. He couldn’t concentrate; he was frazzled about work. He rolled up his sleeves and loosened his collar, and began to wonder whether the stress he felt from being away from his job was worse than the stress he felt while being at work. At least if he were at work, he would know _why_ Gabriel was yelling at him. 

With a sigh of frustration, Aziraphale switched the television back off and walked over to the dresser, smiling reminiscently as he gazed upon the small collection of bow ties which were still spread out from when he’d lent one to Crowley. Aziraphale happily allowed his thoughts to drift back to something more pleasant than Gabriel and his job: _Crowley_. 

Aside from the cliche of being tall, dark, and handsome, Crowley had a certain charismatic appeal to him; an alluring way of making Aziraphale feel like he was the only other person in existence whenever they spoke. The American accent didn’t hurt either. They had only known each other for one day, but Aziraphale felt there was something there… something potent, something intangible but powerful, like a magnetic pull. While he was grateful to have found a kindred spirit here in a city where he knew no one at all, the first embers of a flame were beginning to burn inside his heart. 

Aziraphale toyed with the idea of calling down to the front desk to find out which room Crowley was staying in so he could invite him over for a drink. Or perhaps such an invitation would be too forward? He’d already been accused by Crowley’s business partner of unabashedly flirting with him that afternoon in the showcase room. He couldn’t have been very subtle; Bee had picked up on the dynamic in seconds. Crowley, on the other hand, hadn’t seemed to mind the attention and was more than willing to chat with Aziraphale. Then again, perhaps being charming was just in Crowley’s nature. He was a salesman after all; charming people is what salesmen did for a living.

Aziraphale eyed the black plastic bag on the table which contained the two bottles of Original Sin Cabernet Sauvignon he’d purchased and the thought crossed his mind to check his credit card statement at some point. He had no idea how much money he’d spent on those bottles, as the currency had been in Canadian dollars, and truthfully he hadn’t been paying much attention. It hadn’t mattered, because getting the chance to see Crowley again had been worth every penny. 

Even though Aziraphale was in Heaven amongst all the gourmet food and wine he’d been indulging in, the highlight of his whole day had been spending time with Crowley. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought back on the face Crowley had pulled when he tasted his first oyster. He’d hated it, and yet he’d tried it nevertheless. It demonstrated Crowley’s willingness to be adventurous, something Aziraphale found to be wildly attractive, just like nearly everything else about him and…

 _Oh dear_.

Aziraphale was falling hard.

Realistically, the idea of having any kind of romantic relationship with Crowley was a pursuit in foolishness. For one thing, after this festival was over, the two of them would likely never meet again. They didn’t even live on the same continent, let alone the same country. And for another… just because he found Crowley to be attractive, approachable, and incredibly sweet, didn’t mean Crowley felt the same way. Aziraphale had a tough time believing someone as cool and confident as Crowley could possibly be interested in someone as buttoned up and reserved like him, and it wasn’t something Aziraphale could just bring up in casual conversation over oysters. 

_Oh, this white wine sauce is quite delightful, and by the way, Crowley, do you want me as badly as I want you?_

Aziraphale slammed his eyes shut and groaned. He was overthinking things again, a habit of his which Tracy often lovingly teased him for. It was just a crush. Nothing more. And it definitely wasn’t going to go anywhere, and really he should stop encouraging the matter!

He made himself a cup of tea and wandered over to the window to ponder the incessant rainfall. Even though it was June, the rain hadn’t let up once since he’d arrived, at least not in entirety, and according to the weather forecast, it wasn’t bound to change any time soon. While there was a full roster of festival events on the docket for tomorrow, with only two full days left to spend in Vancouver, Aziraphale wanted to make sure he didn’t miss the opportunity to do a bit of sight-seeing. Rain, or no rain. 

Aziraphale was still staring out the window when he heard a soft knock on the hotel room door. He quickly answered it, assuming it was a staff member, perhaps checking if he needed any fresh towels. 

He couldn't have been more wrong.

Crowley stood in front of him, looking impossibly fetching in tight jeans and a black v-neck cotton t-shirt which happened to expose the tempting ends of his narrow collar bones _._ He also looked exhausted, judging by the dark circles under his eyes. Even so, the moment he saw Aziraphale, Crowley’s face lit up with his trademark smile.

“Hi, Aziraphale.” 

Hearing his name spoken with such a tantalizing drawl was like drinking down hot liquid cocoa, and Aziraphale found himself feeling rather warm and tingly in certain parts of his anatomy. He had to will himself to form a complete sentence. 

“Crowley… what are you doing here?”

The other man held up Aziraphale’s tartan-striped tie. “I, uh, just wanted to return the tie. Thanks for lending it to me.”

“Oh? Won’t you need it for tomorrow?” 

The question seemed to throw Crowley through a loop. “Well…. I mean, I suppose I could hang on to it for another day…” 

“It brings out the colour of your eyes,” Aziraphale told him, and immediately wished to sink into the floor. Since when had he become this ridiculous person who just blurted out everything he was thinking? Perhaps all the wine he had indulged in today was going to his head. 

Thankfully, Crowley seemed to take the comment in stride. “I did receive a lot of compliments on it today.”

Aziraphale's fidgeted nervously at his sides. “Well," he replied, "I’m more than happy to lend it to you again for tomorrow. You can give it back to me tomorrow evening.”

“You sure?”

“I’m quite sure, Crowley.”

“Thanks," Crowley said, smiling broadly and adding, "You’re an angel.”

Aziraphale could feel his cheeks warming. “It’s not a problem, Crowley. You know where my room is?” he said stupidly. “I mean, obviously.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Obviously.”

Crowley hovered in the doorway and there was an awkward pause as Aziraphale grappled with the idea of inviting the man inside for a drink, but he was supposed to be reigning in those pesky feelings instead of projecting them onto Crowley. Then again, it would be rude not to at least offer, wouldn’t it? It felt as though there were an angel and a demon on either of Aziraphale’s shoulders, and they were locked in battle and competing for dominance.

“Would you like to come in? I was about to open a bottle of red and I would much rather enjoy it in good company than alone.” The words were out of Aziraphale’s mouth before he could stop them. Evidently, the demon had claimed victory over the angel.

The tension in Crowley’s shoulders vanished in an instant. “I’d love to,” he replied.

Aziraphale held the door open for Crowley and offered him a seat in the armchair. He opened a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and poured them each a glass before taking a seat across from him on the bed.

“What shall we toast to?” Crowley asked.

“To Original Sin,” Aziraphale said, lifting his glass.

Crowley groaned and waved the suggestion away. “Never mind that. How about we toast to meeting new friends instead?”

Aziraphale smiled. “As you like. To new friends.”

Crowley clinked his glass against Aziraphale’s, and they both took a sip.

“You know, when I said this was the best cabernet I’ve tasted, I wasn’t lying,” Aziraphale commented, trying to find something safe to converse about.

“Hmm?” Crowley seemed a lot less interested in the wine than he was in staring at Aziraphale’s exposed forearms. 

Aziraphale demurely took another sip of wine, feeling suddenly a little self-conscious. “I said the wine. It’s fantastic.”

Crowley looked up again and his amber eyes locked onto Aziraphale’s own. He grinned. “Oh. Right. Yes, it’s delicious, isn’t it?” 

Aziraphale could feel himself blushing. He cleared his throat and tried to segway into a different topic for fear he might lean in and kiss Crowley right then and there. “How did your first day on the showcase floor go?” he asked, figuring that might be an even safer topic.

Crowley sighed irritably. “Surprisingly well. Better than I’d expected, actually.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “You seem… disappointed.”

Crowley's eyes widened, as though he hadn’t realized how his tone of voice had come across. He took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “To be honest, I was secretly hoping things wouldn’t go quite as well as they did.”

“I don’t understand. Why on earth would you not want things to go well?”

“You probably don’t want to hear all of this.” Crowley shot him an apologetic look. 

Aziraphale shook his head. “If you want to talk about it, Crowley, I don’t mind listening. Please.”

Crowley hesitated, then took another swing of wine, and leaned back into the chair. “Bee is driving me up the wall. Things were already pretty tense, but ever since I got here, she’s been putting the screws in me to sign the contract to relinquish control of my business.”

“But I thought you two were already in business together?”

“No. Not yet. The West Coast festival is a trial run, of sorts, so she could show me what was possible if I were to go into business with her. Her company is offering me a ton of money if I am willing to sell a sizable portion of the business to them.”

“And you’re not sure?”

Crowley looked defeated. He stared for a moment at the glass of wine in his hand, then looked back at Aziraphale. "No."

Aziraphale could plainly see the anguish behind Crowley’s eyes, and he had to wonder if this was the first time the man had spoken so candidly about his situation. “What’s holding you back?” he asked Crowley gently.

Crowley considered the question for a moment. “The vineyard is my home. I’ve lived there all my life. If I give up ownership of the business, I give up the property, I give up the vineyard, and I give up my home. I just can’t even imagine not living there anymore. I can remember being as young as five and helping my father tend to the vines behind the house… that’s how young I was when I realized I had a knack for growing things. It’s more than just a job to me… it’s what I love to do.”

Aziraphale nodded understandingly and reached across to refill Crowley’s glass.

“Anyway, while I was growing up, my father turned down numerous lucrative offers, to sell Original Sin because it was our home and it was where he wanted to stay… and for me to take over the business now that he’s gone and sell it? How can I reconcile with that? I’m not in this for the money, and I never have been, but I am this close to going out of business altogether if I don’t do _something_.”

Aziraphale leaned forward and touched Crowley gently on the arm. “I completely understand. This sounds like an exceedingly difficult decision for you to make.”

Crowley managed a sad smile. “Yeah. Well, anyway, that’s enough about me. Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

Aziraphale could tell Crowley was tired and the conversation about Original Sin Vineyards had only made him more exhausted. He felt honored Crowley had confided in him with such a personal story, and didn’t want to push him any further if he didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Alright. What would you like to know?”

“You said you were a chef? Where do you work?”

Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to pour himself a new glass of wine. “The restaurant is called the Quince and Quill. We do high-end vegan food, mostly.”

Crowley balked. “Vegan? I never would have pegged that as your specialty.”

Aziraphale laughed. “Well, it certainly wasn’t where I thought I would end up when I finished school, but I had to start somewhere.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

Aziraphale considered his tepid relationship with his boss. “Now, that’s a loaded question,” he replied. “I’ve learned quite a lot, and my skills have only improved since I started, however, while I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, I never expected the job would be quite so… demanding. Let’s just say I needed this holiday, or I might have actually lost my mind and chucked the fine cutlery at my boss’s head.” He watched as Crowley’s eyebrows climbed sky-high. “I’m only joking, of course.”

“Of course,” Crowley repeated.

“I would have thrown the plates first.”

That remark got a raucous laugh out of Crowley, and soon Aziraphale was laughing right along with him.

“Well, it’s a good thing you were able to get away,” Crowley continued. “It sounds like you haven’t had much time to relax and recharge.”

“No, I suppose I haven’t.”

“We need to fix that.” Crowley finished off his wine and set the glass aside. “Have dinner with me tomorrow.”

The warm tingly feeling had returned and Aziraphale had to take a moment to contain his excitement, lest he fly apart right then and there. “Alright. Where would you like to go?”

Crowley hiked a thumb over his shoulder towards the window and the north shore mountains. “Up there,” he said. “I’m free after three o’clock. We could rent a car, drive up and then take the gondola to the top of Grouse Mountain? There’s a restaurant at the top. Might even catch the sunset if we time it right.”

Aziraphale hesitated. Crowley was asking him to dinner. Not just dinner, but dinner at the top of a mountain. It had the potential to be the most romantic outing Aziraphale had ever been on, and yet, to agree to go meant he was giving in to whatever was happening between him and Crowley and just going wherever that might take them.

Crowley bit his lip. "I know it's raining, and there's a good chance we won't be able to see anything, but-

“I can’t wait,” he said.

The relief on Crowley’s face was palpable. “Yeah?”

Aziraphale was grinning ear to ear. “Absolutely. That sounds positively lovely, Crowley.”

“Great.” Crowley looked like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it. “I need to get going… I have another early morning tomorrow. I’ll meet you in the lobby tomorrow at half-past three?”

“I'll be ready,” Aziraphale replied excitedly and he walked Crowley to the door to bid him goodnight. The moment the door shut behind him, Aziraphale closed his eyes and took a deep breath. What had he just got himself into? Tracy’s words about enjoying himself were echoing in his head, but he still had his doubts. Having fun was one thing but falling in love? That was something else entirely. 

If he wasn’t careful, he might get swept away in all of this excitement and he knew what the end result of that would be: heading home to London with a broken heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to my beta reader [TawnyOwl95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TawnyOwl95/pseuds/TawnyOwl95), as she's been invaluable and I appreciate her guidance.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](https://redundant-angel.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to my lovely beta [TawnyOwl95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TawnyOwl95/pseuds/TawnyOwl95)

Sleep eluded Crowley. He spent much of the night tossing and turning, and scrolling on his phone even though he knew damned well the blue light it was emitting would only hinder the situation. As excited as he was for tomorrow, Crowley was also nervous. He’d come up with the trip on the spot last night; all while trying not to get lost in Aziraphale’s electric blue eyes. He’d downloaded an app for a car-sharing service the night before, so at least he had transportation figured out. Other than that, he would just have to do what he usually did, and wing it. 

What was really driving him crazy was his own impulsivity. Crowley was pansexual and he didn't consider himself to be someone who had a type, but whenever it was that he'd become attracted to middle-aged men wearing sweater vests and bow ties was anyone's guess. 

Aziraphale was a mystery that Crowley wanted to solve. He wanted to learn more about the man: what his life was like back home, what his interests were, whether he might find Crowley just as attractive as Crowley found him... the basics. There were several hypothetical boxes that needed to be checked off before Crowley could guess what the outcome of this excursion might be. 

He didn't know whether Aziraphale was single… hell, he didn’t know for sure if the man was gay, although the plaid bow ties were rather telling. Even then, he couldn’t be certain if Aziraphale was even interested in him. When Crowley had asked him to dinner, Aziraphale had seemed uncertain. That same feeling of uncertainty plagued Crowley for the rest of the night and predictably, by the time his alarm clock sounded at eight the next morning, he felt like he’d just rolled out of the grave. It was going to be an extra-large coffee day kind of day. 

Hard at work in the showcase room, Crowley eagerly counted down the hours until he was off work. Aside from caffeine, the only thing keeping him going at this point was the knowledge that he was going to get to have dinner with someone he liked in a fancy restaurant at the top of a mountain. 

"You look like hell. "

He looked up to see Bee staring at him curiously.

“Late night?”

“No. I just never sleep well in hotel rooms,” he said with a shrug.

“Well, you know, I could always help you to relax,” she purred, sidling up next to him. "You'd sleep like a baby once I was done with you." 

Crowley recoiled instinctively, and was just about to object when her assistant Eric approached the table, his hands loaded with shopping bags from designer boutiques. 

“Oh, there you are,” said Bee, reluctantly peeling herself away from Crowley. She rifled through the shopping bags and handed one of them to Crowley, who peered at it with disdain. 

“What’s this?”

Bee flashed him a grin. “I had Eric do some shopping and asked him to pick a little something up for you while he was at it.”

“Thank you, but I don’t need-”

“Take it,” said Bee snarled, her smile vanishing in an instant and was replaced with a cold icy glare. 

Not wanting to upset her further, Crowley apprehensively opened the plastic bag and pulled out a sleek black box labeled Prada on the outside. Inside was a silk black and red designer tie. Crowley didn’t even want to know how much it had cost.

“Go on, put it on. Consider it a perk for coming onboard with us.”

Crowley hesitated. It wasn’t that tartan had grown on him by any means; although he had to admit the tie he was wearing now smelled deliciously like Aziraphale, but accepting a gift from Bee left Crowley feeling like he wanted a shower. Still, it was better to keep her happy than to get into another fight.

“I made a reservation for the two of us at Michael’s for eight o’clock, and you won’t want to wear a tartan tie to a swanky place like that.”

The walls of the showcase room felt like they were closing in all around him. Crowley was intent on keeping the plans he’d made with Aziraphale: all the designer ties in the world weren't going to change that. He took a deep breath. “I'm sorry, but I won't be able to make it.”

Bee’s expression darkened once again. “Why not?”

"I already have plans. I’m going to rent a car to do a little sight-seeing.”

“I see,” she replied, circling behind him, her stilettos clacking loudly on the linoleum floor. Crowley stiffened. “I’ve been to this city many times and I know where all the hot spots are. Why don’t you and I go together? We can make a night out of it?”

A piercing headache was now thrumming behind Crowley’s temples. The need for a cigarette was back with vengeance. He had hoped to avoid this conversation entirely, but now that the decision was made for him it was almost a relief. “I’m taking Aziraphale with me,” he declared, and waited for the fallout.

“ _Aziraphale?_ ” Bee scowled at the mention of the name. “You do care about the business, don’t you Anthony? How is this ever going to work if you’re spending all of your time with someone else?”

“You know I care!” Crowley hissed loudly, and several people at nearby booths turned to stare at them. Eric, meanwhile, was doing a magnificent job of pretending not to notice while still watching them with interest out of the corner of his eye. “And that’s why,” he continued, lowering his voice to a whisper, “we should at least _try_ to give the impression that what we have is a purely professional relationship, don’t you think? I don’t need you buying me gifts or taking me out to dinner. And I definitely don’t need you in my bed.”

Bee’s dark eyes turned wild and her lips curved upward in an amused smirk. “Now, Anthony! There’s the passionate side of you I was hoping to see again.” She stepped forward, crowding him backwards against a stack of wine cases; her three inch heels easily making up for her short stature. “I’ve always found mixing a little pleasure with business helps everything run a little more smoothly.” She reached out to wrap her sharp black nails around Crowley’s tartan tie. “It also serves as a nice reminder as to _who_ is on top.”

Crowley knew what Bee was like but he couldn't have fathomed she was going to act so shamelessly in public. Calling on every last ounce of willpower to keep from losing his cool, he carefully extricated the tie from her hands. “I'm not having this conversation with you,” he said flatly. 

“That’s fine,” she said quietly. “If you want to waste your time with the British professor, be my guest. Just don't forget that I'm the only reason why you're here at all.” She backed away slowly, leaving Crowley standing rigidly against the stack of boxes. “And put on the tie. It fits our brand.”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Around noon the sun had peeked out from behind the clouds, teasing a possible end to the rainy weather. But by the time Crowley met up with Aziraphale later that afternoon, the clouds had moved back in and completely covered the sky. Crowley decided to bring along his umbrella just in case. It was late spring, and the rain could start up again at any moment.

He was running later than he had intended, when he found Aziraphale waiting for him in the lobby, dressed in sharp cream-coloured slacks, a forest green sweater vest and of course, one of his signature bow ties. Aziraphale may not be a professor but he sure looked the part. Crowley would have enrolled in whatever class he taught, even if it was math.

"You look nice," Crowley said as he approached. "Sorry I'm late."

"Oh, that’s alright. I wasn't sure what to wear," admitted Aziraphale, and Crowley noticed him staring at the new silk tie.

He hadn’t known what to wear either but figured jeans wouldn't look good in a high-end restaurant like the Observatory, so he’d kept on the suit and as well as the Prada tie. The gondola was a round trip and barring any technical difficulties, Crowley's plan didn't involve any hiking. 

"What you’ve got on is perfect. As long as you've got good walking shoes and a coat?"

"I do."

"Great, follow me."

Crowley pulled out his cell phone and they left the hotel, traveling only a short distance until they reached a dark blue car parked on the side of the road. It was no convertible but it would have to do. 

Back home, he owned a 2012 BMW convertible, and going for long country drives was one of Crowley’s favorite things to do in his free time. He loved feeling the sun on his face and the wind messing up his hair as he swiftly handled the curves of the road with skill. Crowley wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but he did hope to impress Aziraphale a bit with his driving. 

Aziraphale looked at the car in confusion. "I thought we were renting a car?"

“We are. Hop in,” he told Aziraphale as he climbed into the driver’s side of the sporty little Toyota Prius. “It’s called Evo. You pay by the hour used instead of the entire day. The best part is we can leave it anywhere we want when we’re done.”

“Oh, that’s very convenient,” said Aziraphale, flashing a bright smile which entirely made up for the quite frankly miserable afternoon Crowley had experienced today. 

“Thank you for coming with me.” Crowley’s heart was kicking up into a little dance as it always did when Aziraphale smiled at him. 

As they headed out of the city, Aziraphale remained silent for quite some time and Crowley had to wonder what was on the other man’s mind. Maybe he was weighing the odds of whether he was in a car with an axe-murderer, or maybe he was trying to figure out how to let Crowley down easy without hurting his feelings? Aziraphale’s right hand was clasped tightly to the handle above the passenger side window, while his left was gripping tightly on his own knee. Quite frankly, he looked anxious. 

“You alright?” Crowley asked finally, stealing a glance at Aziraphale atop the rims of his sunglasses. 

“Oh, yes. Perfectly alright,” Aziraphale replied, his voice cracking slightly. 

“Am I going too fast?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No, no, that’s… your driving is impeccable. I’m still not accustomed to driving on this side of the road, is all.” 

“Oh, of course. I can only imagine what that might feel like.”

“Maybe some music would help?” Aziraphale suggested, reaching for the stereo controls.

Crowley grinned, curious to see what station Aziraphale might pick. “Go ahead.” He was pleasantly surprised when Aziraphale settled on one that was playing classic rock. The traffic dissipated as they traveled further north, and with Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody providing the soundtrack to their journey, they soon found themselves driving on a long open stretch of highway; glistening coastline on one side and the mountains on the other. Although the rain had eased up, there was still quite a bit of cloud cover.

“I’m sorry the weather isn’t cooperating, Probably won’t see that sunset after all.”

“Why are you apologizing? You can’t control the weather.” 

“No,” Crowley smirked. “ But I thought I might be able to wrangle it a little bit.”

Aziraphale laughed loudly; a musical sound that eased the tension between them, and Crowley felt himself begin to relax. 

It wasn’t long before they reached the base of the Skyride, the aerial tramway system which would take them up to the top of the mountain. Crowley had paid their tickets earlier online, and told Aziraphale not to worry about the cost. He hadn’t intended on having Aziraphale pay for anything tonight, just in case this turned out to be a proper date.

They only had to wait a short time before it was their turn to board. As they stepped onto the bright red gondola car, Crowley realized this wasn’t exactly going to be how he’d pictured it in his mind. He hadn’t counted on the sheer number of guests that piled in along with them. By the time the car was finished loading, he and Aziraphale were so tightly crammed inside that there was hardly any space to breath. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it, Aziraphale’s generous backside was pressed tightly against Crowley’s hips and Crowley felt the friction between them at each and every single bump as they rode up.

Here they were, flying high above the towering Douglas fir trees, floor to ceiling windows revealing breathtaking views of the city and the dazzling Pacific Ocean, and all Crowley could focus on was trying not to get an erection as Aziraphale bounced against him. He tried not to think about it, but he couldn’t help but wonder what it might feel like to wrap his arms around Aziraphale’s soft waist and pull him even closer. He wanted to bury his lips on the back of Aziraphale’s neck, run his hands up and down his gorgeous thighs, and-

There was jolt as the cable car bounced over one of its supports, and Aziraphale smacked right up against Crowley’s lap. He turned around to apologize and Crowley noted the man was sporting a rather lovely blush on his cheeks. Maybe Crowley wasn’t the only one who was enjoying their bumpy ride. This sure made up for the random elbow digging Crowley’s back the entire time.

They unloaded at the top and made their way out into fresh air to take in the view. 

“I’m an idiot,” Aziraphale suddenly blurted out.

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t bring a camera.”

Crowley shrugged. “What about your cell phone?”

“I didn’t bring my mobile along with me. Didn’t think I’d need it. Like I said… I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not,” Crowley argued. “We can use mine.”

“Oh, thank you, that would be lovely, ” Aziraphale said, smiling back at him. 

Crowley felt his heart did a perfect little somersault in his chest and he wondered if the feeling was ever going to fade. He wasn’t sure he wanted it to. He could get drunk on Aziraphale’s luminescent smiles. He opened the camera app on his phone and handed it to Aziraphale, who happily took a few shots of the view.

“You should get in the frame, and I’ll take one of you,” Crowley offered.

“Or perhaps we could ask someone to take one of us together?” Aziraphale suggested with a hopeful smile.

They corralled a nearby stranger into taking their photo at a lookout point. Crowley wasn’t sure how close to get to Aziraphale, so he stood awkwardly to one side and tried not to look like an idiot in a business suit.

“No need to be shy, Crowley,” Aziraphale teased him. “You can come closer to me, if you like.”

Crowley sucked in a breath and moved in next to Aziraphale, not knowing what to do with his hands. Thankfully, he didn’t have time to dwell on it for very long because Aziraphale wrapped an arm around his shoulder and leaned in like they’d been friends for years. Crowley was grateful for the picture, because no matter what happened, at least they'd have a memory of this day forever.

“You’ll have to give me your email address so I can send these.”

“Good point, I’ll do that right now before I forget." Aziraphale replied, typing his address into Crowley’s phone.. "I don't check my email often, mind you, but I'll be waiting for these!"

"I'll send them to you when I'm back on WiFi. Promise. Now, shall we go for dinner?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, I'm starving!” 

If Crowley had thought his plans for a romantic dinner had been foiled by the rain, he was about to get an even nastier surprise. The Observatory, the fine dining restaurant with the heavenly views that he’d hoped would impress Aziraphale, was temporarily closed.

“Shit,” he muttered, as he read the sign. “I’m sorry, Aziraphale. I fucked up.”

“It’s completely fine, dear. There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m having a better time now than I can remember having in ages, believe me.”

Aziraphale seemed unperturbed by this development but Crowley still wanted to kick himself for not checking the website.

“The cafeteria is still open,” Aziraphale suggested, pointing to a much less exciting option down the hallway.

Crowley groaned. The irony of a chef coming all this way from London for a food and wine conference only to be treated to cafeteria food was not lost on him. “Are you sure? We can head back down the mountain and I’ll find a nice restaurant for us to have dinner at.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “This is perfect, Crowley. I mean, look at the view! We won’t get this at any restaurant in the city.”

Aziraphale genuinely didn’t seem to mind and Crowley realized that the man did have a point. "Alright then," he said. They walked into the cafeteria and Aziraphale ordered a hamburger while Crowley ordered a grilled cheese sandwich. Not exactly fine dining, thought Crowley, but as long as Aziraphale was enjoying himself it didn’t matter. 

They slid into a plastic booth near the window. Crowley was fairly certain he’d never seen anyone eat a hamburger so gracefully before. He watched with interest as Aziraphale dipped a French fry into some ketchup with one perfectly manicured hand and found himself thinking about how those hands might feel against his own skin. These thoughts were becoming a habit, it seemed. Crowley realized he was staring and was suddenly grateful to be wearing sunglasses. 

"So, how was your day?"

Aziraphale looked up from his plate with a frown. "Honestly, I’ve been trying to enjoy myself, but my boss, Gabriel, has been trying to get a hold of me since I left and I’ve had no luck in connecting with him. I don't know what he wants and it's really beginning to bother me.” 

“Didn’t he get the memo that you were on vacation?”

“Yes, but he left me a message yesterday asking me to call him back, saying it was urgent. When I called him back, he was still sleeping and he asked me to try again in two hours. Mind you, by then it was already quite late here because of the time difference.” Aziraphale finished his bite of French fry. “So, I waited up and tried him again, at which point he didn’t even answer his phone. It infuriated me, to say the least.”

“What an arrogant prick,” Crowley mumbled, irritated on Aziraphale’s behalf.

“He really is. Gabriel honestly thinks everyone else’s time is worthless, and it’s only his own that matters.”

“That’s exactly why I’ve enjoyed working for myself for all these years," Crowley said. No boss to report back to, no one to tell you what to do or what to wear...” 

He suddenly remembered he was still wearing the silk tie Bee had given him earlier. Aziraphale must have noticed he was no longer wearing the tartan tie but clearly had been too polite to mention it. 

Crowley sighed irritably. “Bee wanted me to wear something more… You know what? Fuck it.” He undid the knot and stuffed the tie into his pocket. “I’m off the clock now, I can do whatever I want.”

Aziraphale grinned. “Glad to see you're loosening up a bit. You've seemed a bit stressed all evening.”

“It’s all work-related stuff, Aziraphale. Why don’t we make a pact: work is off the table for discussion for the rest of the night. Let’s talk about something else."

“Sounds great, and you're right," agreed Aziraphale. "Work is not what I need to be talking about in my spare time. Tracy, my good friend back home, is always encouraging me to leave work at the door and have a little more fun. She's always hinting that if I got out more, I might also meet some young man who will sweep me off my feet."

His eyes met Crowley’s and Crowley nearly choked on his grilled cheese sandwich.

"Honestly, I haven’t been on a date in so long, I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

 _You’re doing fine right now_ , thought Crowley as he checked off two of the three hypothetical boxes in his mind. Aziraphale was interested in men, and he was single. Crowley wondered if he could check the last box off before the night was through. 

“Anyone would be lucky to date someone like you, Aziraphale,” Crowley said softly.

Aziraphale gave a wry smile and dabbed at his lips with a napkin. “That’s very kind of you to say, but the truth is my life is so busy. It just wouldn’t be fair to pursue a new relationship when I don’t have the proper time to give.”

 _That's fair,_ Crowley thought, but that could be worked around. Maybe Aziraphale just needed a better boss.

“Anyway, I have no intention of a repeat performance of my last relationship,” Aziraphale added with finality.

“May I ask what happened?”

Aziraphale turned and stared out the window. “Peter was a salesman who traveled quite a great deal for work. He was gone so often that after a while it began to feel like we were in a long-distance relationship. Eventually our relationship began to suffer and break down. Once it ended, I threw myself fully into culinary school and romantic relationships became the farthest thing from my mind.”

“Understandable,” Crowley said, all of a sudden feeling ridiculous for even entertaining the idea he and Aziraphale might actually have a chance at… something. Of course an up-and-coming British chef wasn’t going to want to pursue anything with a failing vintner who lived in California… their fate had been sealed before they’d even met.

“Although things could change in an instant, I suppose,” Aziraphale said softly, his eyes fluttering up to meet Crowley’s. “What about you? Anyone special in the picture?”

Crowley panicked. His mouth went dry. He should have expected to have to talk about his own love life now he’d brought the subject up, but the question still caught him off guard. 

“I’m single. I mean, not for lack of trying,” he blurted out. “I just haven’t found the right person yet.”

“I’m sure that won’t be the case for long,” Aziraphale replied, grinning back at him. 

“Why is that?”

“Well, you’re very nice, to start-”

“Nice?” Crowley stammered, his cheeks tingling with embarrassment. Was 'nice' even a proper compliment? Nice seemed like a word you might use to describe the elderly lady next door or a relative you didn’t know very well.

“Nice, and witty, and charming, and attractive…"

 _Oh._ Crowley’s cheeks were on fire now. He slumped back into the booth. 

"You seem like someone who could have anyone they wanted,” continued Aziraphale, who seemed to have made his mind up that this game they were playing was over. It was time to lay all the cards on the table. 

“If that’s what you think of me, then you don’t know me very well,” Crowley replied.

Aziraphale stole a glance at his watch. “It’s only seven. There’s still plenty of time left in the evening to get to know you yet, and I’m not ready to call it a night. Are you?” He arched one eyebrow at Crowley.

“No,” Crowley said quickly before he could give himself a chance to overthink it. He had no idea where this evening was going but he was ready to go along for the ride. “Whatever you’d like to do is fine with me.” 

There was a mischievous twinkle in Aziraphale's crystal-blue eyes. “What I would like,” he said, fixing Crowley with a devilish smile, “is to go out for a drink and forget all about our mutual responsibilities for one night. What would you say to that?”

Crowley stared back at Aziraphale, knowing if he agreed to this, the possibility of one thing leading to another was going to skyrocket. If there was no sense in looking for love in a far away city, perhaps the idea of a one night stand, which would never lead to anything more, could be just as alluring? Why did feelings need to be involved? They were both grown men who could make their own decisions, and clearly Aziraphale was open to the idea. What could possibly go wrong?

The hopeful expression on Aziraphale’s face was going to be his undoing; as were his gorgeous eyes and beautiful mouth. Crowley found he couldn't deny him anything. He smiled at Aziraphale.

“I’m all yours."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's back! And with art!
> 
> This chapter took me longer to finish than I had anticipated, so I apologize for the wait.  
> Thank you to [TawnyOwl95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TawnyOwl95/pseuds/TawnyOwl95) for the beta (but any typos are my own) and thank you to [apocalypsenah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocalypsenah/pseuds/apocalypsenah) who drew some artwork for me for this chapter!

They drove back to the city and left the rental car behind for someone else to use. They wouldn’t need it any longer, as the plan now, according to Aziraphale, was alcohol. They came across a local brewhouse pub and slipped inside, ordering from the bar and settling into a wooden booth near the back of the room. 

The pub had a modern industrial feel, with large painted pipes traversing the ceiling and crisscrossing down the walls behind the bar. It was also very loud and jam-packed with people, but Crowley was grateful for the ambient noise. That, and the pleasant buzz which was taking the sharp edges off the nerves he’d been feeling since they’d left the mountain. It kept his anxious mind from lingering for too long on the fact that Aziraphale would be flying home to London soon and he'd never see him again. Aziraphale didn't have space for a romantic relationship in his life, let alone a long-distance one, so that left their newfound friendship with limited options. This night was literally going to be it; Crowley’s own blossoming feelings be damned. He swallowed them down with another glass of lager. 

Conversation flowed easily between them and several hours and many drinks later, Crowley was riding on a high. Inevitably he would crash back down, but he didn’t want to think about that right now. All he wanted to think about was the literal angel of a man sitting in front of him right now. Each time Aziraphale’s twinkling blue eyes met his, and each time the man laughed and his face lit up; his soft blond hair outlining his features like a halo around his head, Crowley found himself falling further in love. The dance music seemed to pound in time with Crowley’s lovestruck heart.  
  


_Something in you lit up heaven in me_ _  
_ _The feeling won’t let me sleep_ _  
_ _I just want to feel your skin on mine_ _  
_ _Cause I’m lost in the way you move, the way you feel_ ...  
  


"Crowley, did you hear me?"Aziraphale was watching him expectantly.

"No, what did you say?" Crowley leaned across the table.

Aziraphale also leant forward, his shirtsleeves neatly rolled up to reveal well-muscled forearms. He had also done away with his bow tie and unbuttoned his collar, revealing soft skin and a dusting of blond hair. Crowley swallowed. Did Aziraphale have any idea what this was doing to him? 

“Are you --” Aziraphale began, but the music was too loud and his words were being swallowed up by the noise. 

“What?”  
  
“I said, are you--” 

Crowley still couldn’t hear Aziraphale so, with a sudden burst of bravado, he got up and slipped into the booth right beside him. He hadn’t thought this all the way through, however, because now he and Aziraphale were sitting dangerously close together. 

“Whatever the question was, the answer is yes,” Crowley said seriously. 

Aziraphale laughed. “I asked if you were having a good time.”

“Oh. I’m having a great time. Are you?”

Aziraphale wiggled happily in his seat. “Honestly, I can’t recall the last time I had this much fun.” 

Aziraphale lifted his glass to his lips and Crowley watched him, focusing on Aziraphale’s tempting mouth; how his pink tongue would sweep out across his lips after he took a sip. He wanted to touch Aziraphale so badly. He wanted to kiss him and taste those lips for himself. Instead of doing any of those things, Crowley panicked. 

“I'm going out for a smoke,” he stammered, already halfway out of his seat. 

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open with surprise. “Why don’t I join you?” he replied, following Crowley out of the booth. 

Crowley blinked. It wasn’t so much that he was craving a cigarette as he was certain he would end up kissing Aziraphale if he didn’t find himself a diversion. He needed something to do with his hands. He needed something to occupy his mouth. “I don’t want to blow smoke in your face...”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Aziraphale replied, as he reached for his coat. “Lead the way.”  
  


•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••  
  


Aziraphale felt giddy, as though he were a much younger man. Not that he was old by any means, but as a man in his late forties with a very demanding career, a night out on the town like this one took a great deal more energy than he was typically willing to expend. If he wasn’t working a late shift at the Quince and Quill, curling up with a good book in a hot bath was all the excitement Aziraphale craved. Perhaps it was because he was so far from home, so far removed from his everyday life that Aziraphale felt so vibrantly alive for the first time in months. He didn’t have to wake up early, and he didn’t have to answer to anyone but himself. There was no place else on earth he would rather be than right here, with one Anthony Crowley, purveyor of fine wines and bad jokes. 

He’d even made a conscious decision to stop worrying about whether or not Crowley was interested in him and make the most of the night. As far as Aziraphale was concerned, Crowley was someone who was far out of his league, with his laid back movie-star good looks and fancy American accent... and, judging by someone as slim and posh as Bee; potential suitors. He didn’t think Crowley was interested in Bee romantically, but it was hard to miss the way she acted around her business partner, as though there were more to their relationship than met the eye.

In any case, if Crowley was aware of his own charisma he didn’t show it. Aziraphale found him to be the most down to earth person in the world to talk to. He was funny and interesting and clever, without ever being pretentious. He was kind and he didn’t judge. There was even a soft vulnerability to him that Aziraphale was beginning to fall in love with. Most of all, Crowley seemed to be just as interested in listening to him prattle on about cooking and his penchant for collecting old books as Aziraphale was in hearing stories about Crowley’s life back home. 

The trouble was, Aziraphale found himself wanting more. He was slowly falling in love with Crowley’s inquisitive amber eyes, the shape of Crowley’s lips and the sound of his voice. Just being physically near Crowley did indecent things to him. 

They stepped outside the brewhouse and back into the rain. Crowley popped open his umbrella and handed it to Aziraphale. “Don’t want you to get soaked while you’re standing out here watching me smoke."

"There’s room for two," Aziraphale protested, not that he would have minded seeing Crowley in a soaking wet t-shirt. "We’ve made it work before.” 

Crowley hesitated for a moment before stepping beneath the umbrella and right up next to him. The man smelled of red wine and dark chocolate and woodsmoke, and Aziraphale’s thoughts began to wander off to places they had no business being. He imagined wrapping his arms around Crowley and snuggling in tight; burying his head in the crook of his shoulder. He thought about Crowley's mouth and what that mouth might feel like pressed against his throat. He wondered what Crowley might be like in bed. Would he be soft and gentle, or would he be rough and demanding? He silently told his brain to shut it, but it wasn’t his brain that was running to show.

“You're staring at me, angel,” Crowley accused with a lopsided grin. “Don’t judge me.”

“Not judging,” Aziraphale told him, and feeling rather inhibited after three pints, playfully stole the cigarette away from Crowley’s hand, his fingertips brushing gently against Crowley’s. “May I?” 

Crowley’s lips parted with surprise, his amber eyes wide with that same enamored look as when Aziraphale gave away his umbrella in a downpour.

“What?” Aziraphale laughed. Stealing the cigarette had been a stupid, impulsive move, but he didn’t entirely regret it. “I did say I might join you, did I not?” 

“Yeah, well, I’d feel like shit if you started up smoking again because of me,” Crowley said softly as he watched Aziraphale take a drag.

“Don’t be silly, I can handle myself! Besides, this is just for tonight. We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves and not worrying about anything, remember?”

“This is Vancouver, angel,” Crowley smirked. “Not Las Vegas.”

Aziraphale handed the pilfered cigarette back to Crowley. “You keep calling me angel,” he pointed out.

The tops of Crowley’s ears turned pink at the accusation. “Sorry, can’t help it,” he mumbled with a smile.

Y _ou can call me anything you like,_ Aziraphale felt like saying. He smiled shyly at Crowley. “You are forgiven. In any case, I haven't been acting much like an angel tonight. I wouldn’t blame you if your opinion of me were to change.”

“I don’t think it could,” said Crowley earnestly.

They locked eyes for a brief moment, then Crowley turned away. “It’s cold out,” he mumbled as he watched the rain spatter on the pavement.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Aziraphale agreed, shivering. The cold night air and the rush of nicotine had sobered him up a bit and now that Crowley had mentioned it, he could feel it seeping into his bones. Aziraphale longed to cuddle up next to Crowley somewhere warm, such as in front of a crackling fire, or in a warm bed. “Perhaps we should head back to the hotel?” 

Crowley started coughing frantically and Aziraphale realized that the question might have sounded like a proposition, which wasn’t his intention. 

“I’ll call a cab,” Crowley said, stomping out his cigarette and reaching into his pocket for his phone.

“That’s quite alright, I don’t mind walking… it’s only a few blocks.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.”

As they started down the street, walking side-by-side with the umbrella between them. Crowley was averting eye contact. He’d been so relaxed and comfortable before but now he seemed tense and nervous. Aziraphale couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done something wrong.

“Crowley?”

“Yeah?”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yup,” Crowley said, perhaps a little too quickly.

Aziraphale raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Crowley, I may be drunk but I’m not an imbecile. I can tell something is wrong. If this is about the cigarette-”

“No, it’s not about the goddamned cigarette,” Crowley snapped, stopping in his tracks. He turned around and Aziraphale thought that he looked terrified, just like when he’d excused himself to go for smoke. Now there wasn’t anywhere for Crowley to go. 

“Aziraphale, feel free to tell me to fuck off...” he began, still avoiding Aziraphale’s eyes.

“I don’t want you to ‘fuck off,’ Crowley,” Aziraphale reassured him. “If I’ve done something wrong-”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Crowley said quickly, dismissing the idea altogether.

Aziraphale took a deep breath. “Then, what are you thinking?”

A muscle in Crowley’s jaw worked for a moment before finally locking eyes with Aziraphale. He took a shaky breath.

“I’m thinking that I want to kiss you. If you'd let me."

A rush of heat flooded from Aziraphale’s stomach to his chest and he felt dizzy on his feet. The question had caught him completely off guard and he struggled to piece the words together that he needed. “Yes… I mean, I would like it if you did. Quite a bit, actually.”

A ruined expression overcame Crowley’s face and he wavered, his gaze flitting downwards to trace over Aziraphale’s lips and back up again. He slowly leaned in, and Aziraphale tilted his chin up and Crowley’s lips caught his own. The kiss was gentle and sweet, but apprehensive. 

Crowley pulled back almost immediately. “Sorry, that was… we’ve both been drinking and… I’m sorry-”

“No." Aziraphale curled his fingers around the edge of Crowley’s coat, refusing to let him slip away. “I want this. I want you.”

Crowley hesitated, his tongue darting out to run over his lips.

“Please...” Aziraphale whispered, and it seemed to be all the encouragement Crowley needed, because he surged forward again, claiming Aziraphale’s mouth for his own. The motion drove Aziraphale back until Crowley had him pressed flat up against the closest wall, the umbrella tumbling forgotten to the ground beside them.

Aziraphale moaned and melted against him, allowing Crowley to take what he needed, the feral taste of him enveloping his senses and silencing the insecurities in his mind. He couldn’t remember ever being kissed so passionately. It had been so long since he had been touched this way and his body was reacting accordingly. He was fully hard already, his erection pressing insistently against the crook of Crowley’s hip, and surely he had to have noticed, but Aziraphale didn’t even care. This was happening and he had no plans to stop it.

Crowley’s hands were on him now, sliding behind him and pulling him in, and Aziraphale responded by reaching up and tracing his fingers through Crowley’s soft hair, tugging hungrily.

“You drive me crazy, angel, do you know that?” Crowley growled against his mouth. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you once since I got here.”

Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you, either,” he whispered breathlessly. The thought suddenly crossed his mind that Crowley might ask him up to his hotel room. If that did happen, he would need to decide what his answer would be. It had been ages since he’d even so much as entertained the idea of sleeping with someone, and he’d never been with anyone as magnetically beautiful as Crowley. He had never really thought about the possibility being real until right now.

They were partially blocking the sidewalk and a few bystanders were staring at their rather public display of affection, so Crowley swept the umbrella up from the ground and took Aziraphale’s hand in his, leading him down the street. They reached the hotel a minute later and tore into the lobby hand in hand, wet from the rain, and breathless from kissing each other senseless. They started to make their way towards the elevator, when Crowley turned to him.

“Aziraphale, I-”

The loud clack of high heels on linoleum echoed through the otherwise empty lobby and Aziraphale looked over his shoulder to see Bee striding towards them, jealousy written all over her face. His heart sank. 

Crowley stiffened and his grip on Aziraphale’s hand tightened protectively.

"Anthony!" Bee’s expression softened as she reached them. “I’ve been trying to reach you all evening! We need to talk.” She glanced at Aziraphale and pursed her lips. “Alone.”

“It's nearly midnight on a Saturday,” Crowley said incredulously. “Can’t it wait?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Bee replied. “I've been in touch with Warlock Wineries and they are ready to make you a deal. Now.”

Crowley looked like he was ready to argue but Aziraphale cut him off. “It’s quite alright, Crowley,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment that their evening was being cut short. “It sounds like this is really important. I’m not about to stand between you and an important business deal.”

“Aziraphale-”

“He’s right, Anthony,” Bee said softly. “This is the future of your company. You need to put yourself first.”

Crowley frowned. He glanced back at Aziraphale apologetically. “I…I’m sorry, Aziraphale. I need to go take care of this.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said politely, but it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room and he was suffocating. “I’ll, um, see you tomorrow?” 

Crowley squeezed his hand one last time before letting go. “Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow.” 

Aziraphale smiled back at him, but the expression was at odds with the sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched Bee hook her sharp nails suggestively around Crowley’s arm to guide him towards the elevator. Bee turned back and noticed Aziraphale staring after them. Her jet black eyes bored into his own and she bared her teeth in a scowl that unmistakably said _back off, he's mine._

The elevator doors swung shut and every last one of Aziraphale’s insecurities had returned with a vengeance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely [apocalypsenah](url) painted some beautiful artwork for this chapter so please go check it out! [ A FIRST KISS by apocalypsenah ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25501264)
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Oh and I forgot to add: the song lyrics in this chapter are from the song One Kiss by Calvin Harris and Dua Lipa.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize I'm updating this fic a month after I last posted and I'm so sorry it took so long! As penance, I offer you an extra long chapter of nearly 4k words!
> 
> Thank you again to my amazing beta TawnyOwl95!

As soon as Crowley opened the front door, Bee waltzed into his penthouse suite as if she owned the place. She kicked off her designer stilettos and trotted barefoot over the bedroom's plush white rug, making her way to the suite's spacious lounge. Crowley lagged behind apprehensively. It hadn’t been his intention to invite Bee back to his hotel room but somehow it had seemed like a better idea than going back to hers. 

After switching on a few lights and the room's gas fireplace, Bee proceeded to rummage through the extensive liquor cabinet. "Now. What’ve you got to drink in this place?” 

“What’s the offer?” Crowley countered, wanting to cut to the chase so he could get her out of here as quickly as possible. His mind was still swimming from the alcohol and from kissing Aziraphale not ten minutes earlier. He could still taste him on his lips.

Bee selected a bottle of grey goose and vermouth and plunked two martini glasses onto the small bar with a self-satisfied smile. “Oh, I’ll get to that. But first… vodka. Shaken or stirred, Mr. Bond?”

“I don’t need another drink.”

“Oh, come on… I make a mean martini!”

Crowley grunted an unintelligible answer as he peeled himself out of his wet coat. His shirt beneath was soaked as well and clung to his skin, but he wasn’t about to start stripping off with Bee in the room. He tried to pretend he didn’t notice as her eyes tracked him hungrily.

“This couldn’t wait until tomorrow?" he grumbled as he settled onto one of the faux leather loveseats. "You couldn’t tell I was in the middle of something?”

Bee looked down her nose at him as she added ice to a cocktail shaker. “Oh, I could tell, darling, I just didn't care! I knew you'd agree that business takes priority, over any potential… fling." She finished straining the martinis and wandered over to join Crowley on the leather sofa. "Anyway, like I said, I spoke to head office tonight.”

“And?”

With a knowing grin, she offered one of the martinis she’d made to Crowley who reluctantly took it. "Upper management was extremely impressed with our sales this weekend. They wanted me to try and push you to sell.”

Crowley shook his head. “Bee, I already told you–”

“I know, I know. You love that vineyard and you won’t be bought out for any price. I told them that. But I also managed to convince them that Warlock Wineries would be losing a great asset if we didn’t sign on with you, so...” she bit her lip in excitement, “they made you a new offer.”

Crowley blinked. So, Bee had gone to bat for him. He honestly hadn’t expected that, and it threw him through a loop. “What did they say?” he asked, too cautious to get his hopes up.

“You’ll maintain fifty percent ownership of Original Sin, and you'll be able to stay on the property. We won’t rebrand.”

Crowley laughed. This was far better than the last deal they'd tried to offer him. Feeling a little less anxious, he took a sip from his martini. It was one hell of a strong drink.

“I told you I knew what I was doing,” Bee reassured him. “You just needed to put a little faith in me.”

“What the catch?” Crowley asked, because there had to be a catch. Bee never did anything for selfless reasons, at least not from what he’d seen.

“No catch. There was just one condition." Her smile widened and she took a long sip of her drink. "They want you and I to keep working together... as permanent partners.”

Crowley nearly choked on his martini. He set the glass down on a side table, and ran his hands across his face and through his wet hair. “I'm going to need some time to think this over,” he mumbled, feeling the walls beginning to close in on him again. 

Bee scoffed. “What’s there to think about? Imagine how much money we could make if we were to stick together? Your product is worth far more than you’ve been selling it for. With your horticultural expertise and my aptitude for sales, there's no way we can go wrong!”

Crowley stared at her, his expression horrified. “You and I – should not be working directly together.”

Bee looked offended. “And why not?”

“You _know_ why not. It’s a conflict of interests.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Anthony, but our interests here are aligned. You want to save your company, and I want to help you succeed. What's the problem?”

Crowley sighed. “There’s more to it than that...”

Bee set her martini down and shimmied closer to him; her black eyes deep pools of desire. “I know,” she whispered. “I haven’t forgotten.” 

She reached over to caress his thigh but Crowley grabbed her by the wrist. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Though you could use a reminder of how good we were together." 

Before he could protest, Bee leaned forward and pressed her lips against the corner of his jaw. Crowley's breath left him in a rush. 

“I’ve been thinking about that night ever since. Haven’t you?” Bee murmured between kisses; her teeth nipping at his sensitive skin as she went. 

Up until now, Crowley had been trying to forget. Bee had stopped by his vineyard one day under the guise of being a customer. She’d returned several times, eventually admitting to him that she was working for the competition, but she kept coming back because she’d taken an interest in more than just the wine. Still, Crowley had declined her advances, until one night. They’d shared a couple of bottles of merlot and she’d whispered dirty things in his ear, and Crowley who had been lonely for just a little too long, had given in. It was never meant to go any further. 

He pried her hands away. "That was then,” he said quietly. “If we’re going to be working together, _this_ can never happen again.”

Bee narrowed her eyes. “This is about Aziraphale, isn’t it.”

Crowley didn’t answer.

"Oh, Anthony. You’re wasting your time with that man. As soon as this conference is over, he’ll be heading home and you'll be on your way back to California. You'll never see him again.” Her lips curled into a self-satisfied smile. “You know I'm right.” 

Crowley did know, but he’d been trying to avoid thinking about it. Confidence returning, Bee’s fingers strayed to his collar and she began slowly unbuttoning his shirt. She continued kissing his neck and his chest, her hands travelling steadily downwards across his bare stomach to settle at his hips, where she began to undo the clasp of his belt. Crowley was disgusted with himself, but in the heat of the moment, the warm mouth on his cool skin felt unbearably good and Crowley yielded to it, wanting more. 

Without warning, Bee hiked up her black dress and climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips provocatively. She ground against him and he stifled a groan. “Forget about Aziraphale," she whispered against his ear. “I know you, Anthony Crowley... I know exactly what you need.”

His hips bucked up involuntarily to meet hers and she gave a delighted moan in response. He despised how aroused this was making him and although he knew he should stop this, his anger with Bee as well as how wound up he was from his encounter with Aziraphale in the rain meant that his body was responding eagerly. 

Emboldened, Bee returned to the task of undoing Crowley’s trousers. Her fingers only inches away from his traitorous cock, when she stopped and raised a curious eyebrow. “What is this?” 

Crowley watched, breathless as she reached into his pocket and pulled free the Armani tie that he’d stuffed in there earlier. She dangled it in front of his face. “Hmm… is this how you treat a gift?”

“Um…”

"Well. If you refuse to wear it around your neck, maybe we need to find some other use for it, hmm?” She trailed the soft satin across one of Crowley’s nipples and Crowley had to bite back a whimper. “Maybe I should use it to tie your hands behind your back? How would you like that, Anthony? I’ll make you beg for it until you can’t take it anymore.”

Crowley’s heart was hammering in his chest so loudly he was sure the room next to his could probably hear it.

“Or…” Bee continued, clearly enjoying herself, “maybe you’d like to use it on me instead”

“What?”

”Come on, Anthony,” Bee purred, her voice like honey. “I know you’ve been dying to take charge since the minute we met, so why don't you go ahead and show me who’s the boss in this little partnership of ours?”

The idea was tempting. Bee had been walking all over him in five-inch heels since they'd arrived at the conference and by now he'd had more than enough of it. He despised how she held this much power over him and that the future of _his_ company was resting in her greedy little hands. 

“You want me to show you who’s boss?” he repeated.

Bee nodded. She was breathing just as fast as he was, her body trembling with delight.

With a sardonic smile, Crowley reached for the necktie and tore it free from her fingers. Running on adrenaline and impulsive decision-making, which seemed to be his modus operandi as of late, he wrapped his arms tightly around Bee's petite frame and in one fluid motion, stood, lifting her up along with him. 

“Oh, Anthony,” she gasped as he carried her across the floor and towards his bed. “I knew you had it in you.” 

Crowley smirked and Bee let out a small cry of surprise as she was dumped unceremoniously onto the mattress. He reached down to pick up her abandoned stilettos off the floor.

"Wait… what are you doing?" she demanded.

Crowley tossed one shoe at her, and then the other. “Get out,” he said flatly. 

"What?”

“I said get out.”

The smile on Bee's evaporated. “You can’t be serious.”

Crowley strode across the room to the front door and held it open. “You said I couldn’t be bought, and you were right. You can’t tempt me into signing on the dotted line with the promise of sex. How desperate do you think I am?”

Bee rolled her eyes. “Oh, get over yourself! We're just having fun...it doesn’t have to mean anything!”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want to do it!” he shouted.

Realization washed over Bee’s gamine features. She angrily fumbled her way off the bed and to her feet, stilettos in hand. “You’re in love with him, aren't you.” The words were thrown out in accusation, but to Crowley, hearing them said out loud was more like a declaration. 

“I...I am,” he replied, shocked by his own admission.

Bee stalked towards him, a murderous gleam in her eye. Crowley held his ground. Without the extra height provided by her stilettos, the top of Bee’s head barely reached his chin, so she pointed the sharp heel of one of her shoes at his throat. “You’d better think long and hard about this, Anthony Crowley. It’s him, or me. You can’t have both.” 

With that, she left.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Aziraphale sat at a table full of strangers, fiddling absentmindedly with the cloth napkin in front of him. It was the final night of the food and wine festival and the ceremonies would be closing with a swanky party held in the grand ballroom of the hotel. He was seated between an older gentleman with a beard and a young woman in her late twenties. They’d both introduced themselves but Aziraphale had already forgotten their names. He was feeling rather out of sorts today and was quite decidedly hungover. 

He could hardly believe his own impulsivity the night before. He'd flirted so shamelessly with Crowley, drank more that was considered polite, and had stolen the man’s cigarette in a misguided attempt to seem suave and carefree. 

And that kiss. 

Aziraphale let out a sigh and closed his eyes as he thought about how Crowley’s mouth had felt on his own. He could only imagine what else might have happened if Crowley’s business partner hadn’t shown up at the last minute to steal him away. 

Perhaps it was a higher power that had intervened, knowing full well that Aziraphale would regret his actions in the morning. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with Crowley, only that he knew deep inside that his heart would never recover. Aziraphale had never had a one-night stand before, but he was fairly certain that feelings weren’t meant to be involved, and he was already well past that point.

He hadn’t seen Crowley all day, having pointedly avoided visiting the showcase room, but he knew Crowley was meant to attend the gala tonight. Trying not to look obvious, he peered over his shoulder and glanced about the room for that familiar shock of red hair. Crowley was nowhere to be found but Aziraphale quickly located Bee and her assistant, seated a few tables away. There was an empty seat at their table, which Aziraphale could only assume belonged to an absent Crowley. Perhaps he was feeling just as worse for wear today as Aziraphale was.

A server dressed up the nines arrived with a tray of champagne flutes, signalling that the festivities were about to begin. The champagne toast was to be followed by an exquisite five-course menu paired with nine outstanding wines from around the world. The event had been included with Aziraphale's festival ticket and he’d been looking forward to this event for weeks, but now that he was here, Aziraphale found he had very little appetite. 

He was picking disinterestedly at an appetizer of roasted bone marrow with a parsnip custard and parsley salad when he first spotted Crowley. Looking morose in dark jeans and a black t-shirt, Crowley wandered through the maze of circular tables and slunk low into his chair like a rebellious teenager. Aziraphale noticed he was even wearing his sunglasses. Indoors. Crowley stuck out like a sore thumb among the impeccably dressed crowd, and it made Aziraphale chuckle. Bee, meanwhile, took a sip of her wine and barely acknowledged his presence. That was interesting. She’d seemed so brazen and possessive of Crowley before, but now, considering the cold expression on her face, Aziraphale couldn’t help but wonder what had happened between the two. 

Crowley suddenly turned in his direction. Startled, Aziraphale’s eyes snapped back towards his own plate. He couldn’t be certain that Crowley had seen him, but he didn’t want Crowley to catch him staring. Surely he must have figured out by now that Aziraphale had been avoiding him, and this would only serve to make him look more pitiful than he already felt.

The second course arrived: Tartare of jumbo scallops with sea urchin and radish carpaccio, paired with Silica Ventoux Rouge 2017 from France _._ Already feeling nauseous from nerves and from his lingering hangover, Aziraphale’s stomach turned at the sight of it. He excused himself from the table and made a beeline for the exit, too afraid to even cast a glance in Crowley’s direction. 

As he burst through the glass doors and onto the street, Aziraphale took care to avoid the cloud of cigarette smoke coming from a group of young men standing nearby and found an empty bench to sit on. Cars, busses and taxis rolled by, and happy couples strolled along in front of him. It was ironic, really, as he recalled how happy he'd felt when he’d first arrived in this city and how excited he’d been to finally be on his own. Now, he’d never felt so utterly alone.

“Aziraphale?”

Crowley stood beside him, his fingers dangling over his pockets as though he didn’t know what else to do with them. 

“Ah, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his mouth suddenly very dry. "Hello."

"Can we talk?" Crowley asked.

Aziraphale motioned for him to take a seat.

Crowley sat but cautiously left quite a bit of room between them. “How are you doing today? I didn't see you in the showcase room.”

“Oh, yes, well. I figured you would be busy and didn't want to disturb you.” Aziraphale risked a glance at Crowley. “And, to be quite honest, I’m a tad hungover,” he admitted, feeling stubbornly ashamed about it.

Crowley nodded, understandingly. “You’re not the only one.”

“Ah. Hence the sunglasses?”

“No, I just think they look cool.” 

The remark brought a smile to Aziraphale’s face. There was a long silence then, and the tension between them was tangible. Aziraphale hated himself for it. He wanted to reach out to Crowley, to hold him, but he didn’t know where they stood anymore. Something needed to be said. And then came the words Aziraphale was dreading. 

“Listen, about last night…" Crowley began. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath. "Crowley…"

"I’m sorry about leaving you the way I did. That was never my intention.”

“Really, there’s no need to apologize,” Aziraphale said firmly. “Business is business, and besides, it was probably for the best anyway. It was late… we were both drunk…”

Crowley grew slightly pale. “What are you saying?”

“Just that there is no need to rehash what happened. Water under the bridge, and all.”

“Water under the…?" Crowley took his sunglasses off with a sigh and rubbed his forehead. "Aziraphale, I need you to know that I had a great time with you last night and I feel horrible for taking off on you the way I did. I should have told Bee it could wait until morning.”

Aziraphale bristled at hearing Bee’s name. Perhaps he was more envious of the woman's relationship with Crowley than he realized. “How did it go, by the way?” he asked. 

“What?”

“Your conversation with Bee last night. Did you accept the offer?”

Crowley straightened. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“I see,” Aziraphale replied. He took a deep breath. “I don't regret anything that happened between us last night."

Crowley's amber eyes widened. “Even the kiss?”

“Especially the kiss,” Aziraphale replied with sincerity.

Crowley glanced down at Aziraphale’s mouth. “Good, because I’d like to do it again.”

Aziraphale was by no means a masochist and denying himself something that he wanted so badly seemed like it would be infinitely more painful than letting it happen. He reacted quickly before he could change his mind. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against the corner of Crowley’s mouth and Crowley sighed against him; all the pent-up tension culminating into this one moment. Crowley tipped his head to deepen the kiss, waiting for Aziraphale’s tongue to touch the crease of his lips before opening easily for him. It was even better than the last time, as though they'd forever known exactly how to to kiss one another. Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s face in his hands, and broke away from the kiss, pressing their foreheads together. 

“You’re so wonderful,” he told Crowley. “So beautiful. So lovely.”

Crowley’s eyebrows knitted together and he looked away, embarrassed. “Don't say that, angel."

“Well, you are.” Aziraphale pulled back, wiping away an errant tear from his eye. 

“Are you going to head back to the party?”

“Actually, I think I might retire to my room for the night. I’m not feeling well.”

The disappointment on Crowley’s face was clear, but he didn’t argue. He slipped his dark glasses back over his eyes resignedly and stood, offering a hand to Aziraphale to help him up. 

Aziraphale clung tightly to Crowley’s hand for perhaps a little too long. 

“Can I walk you back to your room?” Crowley asked. 

Oh, how he wanted Crowley to follow him back to his room, but that would only complicate things further, and he felt like he needed to put his other foot down before he tripped metaphorically. “That’s very kind of you, my dear, but not necessary. Perhaps tomorrow we could, I don’t know, go for coffee? Say farewell?” 

Crowley looked like he’d been stabbed through the heart and Aziraphale couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a brash decision. They were just acquaintances. Barely friends. Two lonely people who just happened to be in the same place at the same time. Last night had just been a bit of fun, but now it was over with. Why did Aziraphale suddenly feel like his own heart was being torn in two?

Crowley set his jaw and, with a sigh, slowly let go of Aziraphale’s hand. There was an unspoken finality to it. “Sure, angel, that’d be great,” he replied in a light tone, as though nothing of any importance had just happened between them. 

Feeling more miserable than ever, Aziraphale walked back into the hotel lobby with Crowley at his side. There were uniformed contractors hauling a heavy looking pump onto the elevator.

“Mr. Fell?”

He turned and saw a young man rushing up to him from behind the front desk.

“Yes?”

“Room 703?”

“Yes, that’s me," Aziraphale assured him. "What’s going on?”

The concierge ushered him over to the desk. Crowley hung back.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, Mr. Fell, but a pipe has burst above your room. There’s water damage to the roof and it will take some time to have it repaired.”

“Oh dear me,” Aziraphale fretted. “My belongings! They must be ruined!”

“We’ve brought everything downstairs for you,” the concierge said apologetically. “Luckily nothing was damaged, but I’m afraid you won’t be able to stay in the room tonight. I’m very sorry sir.”

Aziraphale glanced back at Crowley who was watching him with concern. “That’s alright, these things happen. Which room will you be moving me to?”

“Unfortunately, due to the conference being held here this weekend, there are no available rooms tonight. There are a few hotels nearby with vacancies I can set you up at, but none of them are downtown. You would need to take a cab.

“Well, I suppose, if that’s the best you can do...”

“Very well, sir,” the young man said, and began making the arrangements on his computer. Aziraphale wandered back over to where Crowley was waiting for him.

“Everything okay?” Crowley asked.

“Not really. There’s been some water damage to my room and the hotel is fully booked so they’re going to send me elsewhere.”

Crowley swayed slightly on his feet. “Well, you could stay at my place... if you like?”

Aziraphale looked up. “Oh, no, I wouldn't want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Crowley insisted. “I’ve got the penthouse suit, remember? There’s room enough in there for a small army." He noticed the indecision on Aziraphale’s face. "Nothing has to happen between us, Aziraphale. You can have the bed, I'll sleep on the sofa. I’ll have fresh sheets made up for you."

Aziraphale considered his options. It wouldn't be the end of the world for him to leave and take a cab to another hotel. But then he thought again about how this might be a sign from the universe, pointing him in Crowley’s direction. Even though he was afraid of taking chances, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was a chance he’d regret not taking. Tracy, if she were here, would probably smack him upside the head for being so infuriatingly careful all the time.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me,” Aziraphale said, allowing a smile to shine through.

“I have?” Crowley looked like he was holding his breath, waiting for Aziraphale to turn him down once again. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll stay,” Aziraphale replied, and for the first time all day, he felt like himself again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really curious to hear your thoughts about this chapter! I had a lot of fun writing the scene between Bee and Crowley!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***UPDATE***  
> Dec 1st 2020  
> No, this story is not abandoned! It's just on hold for a bit as I've got a lot going on. Thank you for understanding! 💜
> 
> Well, life (and writer's block) got in the way this time, so I am very sorry you all had to wait so long for this update. Please forgive me, and have some smut!
> 
> Thank you to [TawnyOwl95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TawnyOwl95/pseuds/TawnyOwl95) for all her help and to [CousinSerena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinSerena/pseuds/CousinSerena) and [mia_ugly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia_ugly/pseuds/mia_ugly) for being my cheerleaders this month when I felt like giving up!

Aziraphale hovered anxiously by the foot of Crowley’s king-sized bed. Here he was, about to spend the night in Anthony Crowley’s hotel room: the penthouse suite. The suite was indeed spacious, but it was certainly not meant, as Crowley had put it, for a small army. This was, unmistakably, a honeymoon suite. The only thing missing, Aziraphale mused to himself, was a trail of rose petals shaped like a heart on the bedspread. He vaguely wondered how much it might cost to order something like that in a place like this. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Aziraphale caught Crowley snaking his way to the door. 

“You’re leaving?” he asked. 

Caught red-handed, Crowley hesitated. “Yeah, I... you said you weren’t feeling well so I thought I would head back downstairs and give you the evening to yourself.”

_ Oh. _ Aziraphale’s heart sank. He wanted to argue that he was feeling better and beg Crowley to stay, but he realized perhaps the elephant in the room was just a bit much for Crowley to deal with right now. Perhaps Crowley thought there was nothing left to talk about at all. 

“That’s very kind of you,” Aziraphale whispered, crestfallen.

Crowley gave an apprehensive smile. “I’ll, uh, be back in a while. Make yourself at home.”

Aziraphale watched him leave, then he turned to frown at the empty room. 

Alone again. This was becoming a habit. With a sigh, he set his bags down next to the freshly made king-sized bed and chewed at his lip as he studied his lavish surroundings. The room was just as impressive as Aziraphale had pictured in his mind, but he never thought he’d end up here without Crowley.  __ Although Crowley had insisted on sleeping on the sofa while Aziraphale took his bed, Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty about it. There was no chance that the loveseat would be accommodating to a man of Crowley’s height, while the bed was more than big enough for two adults to spread out and not so much as touch one another. But that wasn’t the point. 

The point was that Crowley was trying to give Aziraphale whatever space he thought was needed so he wouldn’t feel pressured. The sentiment was appreciated, but really. Enough of this. At some point between their last kiss, seeing the sadness on Crowley’s kind face, and their silent elevator ride to the top floor, Aziraphale had made up his mind: he needed to stop being a stubborn idiot and tell Crowley that he had feelings for him, even though the chances of them being able to to be together long term seemed bleak.

Aziraphale wandered past the bed and into the lounge, holding his breath as he approached the gorgeous floor to ceiling windows overlooking the harbour. The view was magnificent even at night, and he could only imagine how breathtaking it would be in the morning. The other thing which caught his eye was the swanky jacuzzi tub in the far corner of the room. 

Aziraphale let out a long sigh as he approached the tub. A nice hot soak in a bath seemed like a particularly wonderful idea, especially right now, but he was a guest in Crowley’s room and under the circumstances, he wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate. Then again…

A few seconds clicked by and temptation finally got the better of him. Crowley probably wouldn’t be back for at least another hour, and besides, Aziraphale needed something to calm his nerves before broaching the subject of his feelings with Crowley.

Once the tub had filled, Aziraphale stripped down to his underwear, considered them for a moment, then took those off too. He dipped a toe in apprehensively to check the temperature, and upon finding it to his liking, turned on the jets and stepped all the way into the tub. He took a deep breath and sank fully into the water, closing his eyes. 

The swirling hot water on his skin felt glorious, and the jets were already working their magic on his muscles. It was positively heavenly. Aziraphale wondered if Crowley himself had managed to find time to use it during his stay. There was just enough room for two, so long as those two didn’t mind being intimately acquainted. 

He found himself picturing Crowley undressing, then slipping into the jacuzzi with him, watching him relax fully as water cascaded over those slender hips and firm stomach; his low back arching gracefully and ending in firm, well-rounded cheeks. 

_ Oh, dear.  _ He was half-hard already at the thought of Crowley naked; his cock bobbing softly under the backlit water. Aziraphale’s breath hitched as he finally wrapped his fist around his hardening cock. Perhaps wanking off in someone else’s jacuzzi was a most indecent thing to do, but that alone made the idea that much more exciting. As he began to stroke himself leisurely, Aziraphale realized just how much tension he’d been holding in. The pent-up energy and stress over unrequited feelings; his desire for someone he couldn’t have; everything that had been gnawing at him relentlessly and weakening his resolve all weekend. He found he could hold himself back no longer. 

With a deep groan, he continued to stroke his own length, his nerve endings alight with sensation and his body aching with need. The exhilarating sensation of Crowley’s warm mouth on his own was still fresh in his mind and he clung to it desperately, not wanting the memory to fade.  He wanted to be enveloped in Crowley’s strong arms; he wanted that mouth to devour him. He wished that it was Crowley’s fist sliding up and down his cock instead of his own. 

The electronic beeping sound of a key card jolted Aziraphale from his fantasy. In a panic, he jerked his hand back and hurriedly sat up; water splashing all over the floor.  _ Shit. _

The door swung open and Aziraphale found himself staring straight into Crowley’s wide golden eyes. Crowley's lips parted in surprise as a hot blush spread quickly across his narrow cheekbones. 

“Sorry, Aziraphale ” he stammered. “I can come back-”

“No, please. Stay,” Aziraphale insisted, not wanting to chase him away again.

Crowley swallowed hard but nodded and shut the door behind him. Although he was playing it cool, there was no mistaking the smolder in his eyes as he glanced in Aziraphale’s direction. 

“I am truly sorry about this,” muttered Aziraphale. “I meant to be out before you got back.” He glanced around for his towel and found it was entirely out of reach. He was trapped.

“No need to apologize,” Crowley said. "I did tell you to make yourself at home. He walked into the lounge and began to pour himself a drink. “How is it, by the way?”

“It’s wonderful,” Aziraphale managed. He felt silly sitting in a bath while Crowley roamed about the room, but he was still so horribly aroused. Getting out of the tub quite yet was out of the question, unless he wanted to give Crowley an eyeful. 

Almost as though he had read Aziraphale’s mind, Crowley grinned and said, “You look… remarkably relaxed.”

"Extremely." Aziraphale could feel his face flushing with embarrassment. "And how was the rest of the evening?"

“Dull. Once the dancing started I figured that was my queue to get the hell out of there.”

Aziraphale stifled a smile. “Oh? Are you not much of a dancer?”

Crowley shot him a look of mock offense. “Never said that. It’s just… well… I was kind of hoping you might want my company.”

Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat. Knowing Crowley wasn’t actively avoiding him was encouraging at least. “Actually, that was something I was hoping to speak to you about...” he began. 

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“It’s nothing bad, I assure you,” Aziraphale continued. His heart was hammering in his chest; his nerves having returned with a vengeance. "But I should probably get out of the jacuzzi first. Would you be so kind as to hand me my towel?”

Crowley collected the towel from its hook and brought it over. Because Aziraphale was still seated in the tub and Crowley was standing, when he leaned across, it gave Aziraphale an appetizing look at Crowley’s body from above. The subtle flex of his outstretched arm; the length of his graceful throat under that stupidly tight v-neck shirt… he really did look good enough to eat. It was ironic, really. Aziraphale could have been downstairs gorging himself on a five-course meal prepared by world-class chefs, but instead the only thing he cared to taste was right here in this room. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale mumbled, his fingers brushing against Crowley’s. Crowley’s hips were just inches away and Aziraphale, who had been fighting the urge to pull Crowley into the tub with him, swallowed thickly. He realized Crowley was sporting an erection of his own and doing nothing at all to hide it. 

“Crowley…” 

“Mmhm?”

“Do you...um.” Aziraphale’s mouth went completely dry. Crowley's expressive eyes were locked on his, hanging on his every word. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Do you recall when you said nothing needed to happen tonight? Between us… I mean.”

Crowley straightened. “Yes,” he replied.

Aziraphale climbed to his feet and stepped brazenly out of the tub, knowing for better or worse, he was putting his body, and his arousal, on full display. “Is that still open to negotiation?” 

“Oh, God.” Crowley swallowed. "Aziraphale...”

“Yes?” Aziraphale noticed the quiver in Crowley's lip and desperately wanted to kiss it away. 

“You’re gorgeous," Crowley whispered.  "But I wouldn't want you to do something you’ll regret.”

“How could you even think that?” Aziraphale replied, stepping closer. "The only thing I would regret, Crowley, is leaving here tomorrow without ever being with you." 

Crowley’s eyes widened. Without another word he pulled Aziraphale against himself and kissed him roughly. The press of Crowley’s hot mouth and the rough drag of clothing against his bare skin made Aziraphale gasp.   
  
“You’ll get soaked,” Aziraphale gasped.

“Good,” Crowley grinned, his voice rough with desire. He took the towel from Aziraphale’s hands and tossed it aside. “Get me all wet.”

_ Alright then. _ Not needing any further encouragement,  Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s shirt and pulled him in, pressing their bodies together until the hard metal of Crowley’s belt buckle dug into his hip. "I believe one of us is rather overdressed,” he said, teasingly. “That's not very fair.”

Crowley laughed. “Fussy angel.” 

Aziraphale held his breath as Crowley made quick work of his t-shirt, then as his hands swept to his belt buckle and the zip on his jeans. When he’d finally stripped everything off, including his underwear, he looked back at Aziraphale.  “Fair?” he asked, his lips quirking into a grin.

Aziraphale’s reply caught in his throat. Naked, Crowley was even more beautiful than Aziraphale could have imagined. Although Crowley was thin, Aziraphale could see the whipcord muscles beneath his pale skin. He was stronger than he looked. Crowley's long thick cock standing prominently at attention. 

“Sorry,” Aziraphale finally said. “It’s just... you are so lovely. Can I touch you?”

Crowley nodded enthusiastically. “Shit- yes.”

Trembling, Aziraphale stepped forward and brushed his fingertips over the tantalizing hollow of Crowley’s hip, caressing the smooth skin and finally slipping eager fingers around the thick of him. Crowley groaned and bucked against Aziraphale’s hand.

“Touch me, please,” Aziraphale begged. 

Crowley nodded. He slipped a hand around Aziraphale’s cock, his other finding purchase on Aziraphale’s arse. Crowley's lips were on his again and they both stroked each other in unison.

“Oh,  _ fuck, _ ” Aziraphale swore, as Crowley rolled a thumb over his cockhead, spreading wetness all over. It was almost too much. It had been so long, and he was so aroused from his dip in the jacuzzi. He knew he wouldn’t last long, but guessing by the way Crowley was quivering and trembling against him, he wasn’t far off either. 

He lost the last shred of control when Crowley’s lips pressed against his throat; the sharp drag of teeth along his skin sending shivers down his spine. He came hard in Crowley’s hand, the intensity of his orgasm washing over him in waves. 

“Fuck-” Crowley groaned, his hips canting forward as he came too, panting breathlessly against Aziraphale’s shoulder.  “Aziraphale… that was...”

“Indeed,” Aziraphale quipped, feeling rather light-headed. “And we haven’t even made it to the bed yet.

Crowley muffled a laugh against Aziraphale's shoulder. “The minute I saw you naked in that tub, I knew I was fucked.”

Aziraphale giggled. “To be fair, I may have had a bit of a head start in the jacuzzi…”

“Are you serious?”

“I couldn’t help it,” Aziraphale said. “I was thinking of you.” He wanted to elaborate, but he worried that telling Crowley that he was falling in love with him after what just happened might seem a bit mad. He’d only known Crowley for all of three days, after all. He supposed that conversation could wait until the morning, anyway.

Crowley grinned. “I’m glad you’re staying over, angel, because I’m not nearly done with you yet.” He kissed the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth, then walked into the bathroom to grab a washcloth, treating Aziraphale to a very nice view of his bare arse. 

“Will you stay here with me in the bed, or did you still want the sofa?” Aziraphale teased, once they were both clean and dry.

“I’ll sleep wherever you want me to,” Crowley replied, biting his lip playfully.

Aziraphale patted the open expanse of mattress beside him. “Come here.” 

Crowley obliged, crawling into bed with Aziraphale, their bodies slotting easily together like they were made to fit that way. Aziraphale closed his eyes and sighed, wondering at what point he might wake up from a dream this pleasant. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. His flight left tomorrow evening to take him back to London, but he didn’t want to dwell on that. For the next few hours anyway, Crowley was his, and he was Crowley’s and nothing, and no one, could change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
